The bed that I've been sleeping on since I left my parents' house is being picked up from my apartment tonight, after I found someone who wants it on freecycle. My mom told me in an email today that they bought it when I was about 1, which means that its cost has been amortized over 25 years. I'm weirdly nostalgic about seeing it go. It's like an heirloom, except not in the sense of being useful or valuable. I'll sleep on my futon until I move, which is fine--I need the extra space in my bedroom to SORT MY COLOSSAL QUANTITIES OF LAUNDRY.

As I get ready to move I'm also giving away a few other things, including my TV (technically James's TV) and my VCR and my toaster oven, although all of these are only going to my sister, so they remain in the family. I am already the third person to own the TV, I believe, and the VCR was a gift, although it DID come from a super-discount store in the vein of XS CARGO. I am at least the toaster oven's second owner, and I am proud to say that I have never cleaned it, nor am I ever going to (not even for my sister--I told her, "You can have my toaster oven, but I am not going to clean it for you." She agreed!) I'll get rid of the usual bag of clothes, I've already donated a handful of books and a bunch of CDs to the library where I work (where they'll likely be sold and the profits will help pay my salary, which makes sense, at least to me) and I think at least one of the old computer towers sitting in my storage room will have to go (after being cannibalized for parts of course).

BUT.

There remains the problem that in the two and a half years I have lived in my apartment, I have accumulated SO MUCH STUFF. I own almost 550 books and about 100 movies. I have 4 bookshelves they go on. I bought a Christmas tree! And a futon! And I somehow obtained a set of five oak dining chairs, all of which are falling apart, but which I am sort of weirdly attached to, even though I think my parents bought them from a garage sale. I have a crock pot and a collection of vintage buttons and a side-table that I found in a dumpster and painted. I have real, matching dishes. I have a picnic cooler and a tiny barbeque. You get the idea. Once I move into my house I am NEVER LEAVING. When I die, my kids can clear out this stuff. Maybe the guy who wants my mattress will take it.