- tons of 90's Hilfiger shirts and tapered/pleated pants
- the stationary and watercolor kit I had in elementary school
- 3 feather duvets, duvet covers, a few blankets, and shitloads of pillows. Mom nicknamed the den "the bedding department" until we got it all bagged for Goodwill.
- my brother's baseball cards & G.I. Joe planes
- lots of floppy disks
- 10-ish cans of old paint, thinner, brushes, etc.
- omg, bits of paper with my junior high/high school boyfriends' phone numbers. I want to call Armondo at midnight from the chipped, beige corded phone one more time. The dials the only light in my room, everything glowing soft green.
- our baby building blocks that survived a fire in '74
- A COLECO ADAM, I'M NOT KIDDING. ADAAAAAAM!
- Business cards from the 70's in a tin case
- A copy of Truly Tasteless Jokes
- Linda Ronstadt tapes, the soundtrack to Rocky Horror, and an LP of the "Greatest Hits" of John Lander and the 93Q Morning Zoo
And sooo much more. The sedimentary layers of my family's life. I was disappointed that we didn't strike oil in there.
A couple of months ago, I finally got mom to call a junk man to get the 20 yr old busted dishwasher out of the garage, the old lawnmower, the kid slide. Mom's place is my project for now, but I'm about to move so my apt is about to get overhauled as well.
NEXT UP: MY old bedroom! What do I do with the beloved but useless stuffed animals of my childhood? I am going to cry about this, I don't care how old I get. Mom is no help, she picks them up and makes them talk to me in sweet, squeaky voices. "What about meeee, Katie? Don't you love me anymore? I...I don't want to go in the trash." She's a hoarder and she's fucking ruthless. Uh, their sad, glass eyes. I don't know if I'll be able to do it.
x-posted to my journal