housekeeping

Every time I move home again, I realize how ridiculously full my closet is.

Oh... no, I didn't intentionally mean I realize how ridiculously much I have, though I do have way more than I need.

I was simply noticing that my closet is crammed with stuff, and I seriously need to clean it out and/or quit bringing home new stacks of photos to put on the already-sagging shelf.

One day it will collapse! A beautiful mess of sarongs and old journals...

That closet has collected bits and pieces of my life for sixteen years now, and it's still the pale yellow I asked to paint my room back then. Sometime in junior high I inscribed some favourite quotes in there. You know, for whoever might go looking around the corner in a suburban closet for inspiration. Or for my biographer, once I turned famous.

I thought about painting over the adolescent-purple ink, an embarrassment now,

but I'm still figuring out what to keep and what to chuck.