The packing bxes arrived late Friday evening so I spent the weekend putting my emotional life into storage.
There was a twenty-four hour storm watch in effect for the area and for me personally.
This was as good a time as any to put the past into pigeonholed perspective.
I put on a depressing radio station.
Bach was pacing heavily around the airwaves in his hobnail Baroque boots while the thunder of the downpour agitated his legacy.
Nothing sends me running down into the spiritual cellar like a brooding German composer and an electrically-charged atmosphere.
Everything was perfect – but where to start?
When in doubt, always opt for youthful memories.
There’s always a bunch of them laying around the basement, all unorganized and mildewed.
I gathered up armloads of the stuff and dragged them upstairs.
I’ve been hauling bits and pieces of my youth with me forever.
They have such strong emotional ties, sort of like pictures of relatives you don’t know anymore but you still can’t toss away.
So there I was, cramming piles of reminiscent youth into the biggest box I could find.
I had to sit on the lid while strapping packing tape around the cover, but it’s all put away now.
I highly recommend misspending your youth as foolishly as possible so you don’t have so much left over…you won’t know where to put it all.