I'm always criticizing my mother about being a packrat. Sometimes I forget I have that tendency as well. I'd left my sweatshirts still packed in a huge box I keep for clothes I'm not using. It hasn't been cold enough for the sweatshirts really but I thought I'd take a look at them. So I dig out the box of clothes and while getting to the sweatshirts I realize there's a lot of clothes here I haven't worn in ages, mostly because they're 4 sizes too small. Why do I have clothes that small? Uh, er, umm, dunno. Maybe in the silly hopes I'll be that size again. Which is, of course, complete bullshit. I'm a packrat like my mother. So, here I am now going through this box and throwing clothes in a bag to throw away. Clothes I haven't used for years, my fingers loathe to let them go. A few of the things still have the price tags on them. *sigh* It needs to be done though. I'm trying to think of it as packrat therapy.
January 10th, 2002
This year I promised myself I was going to get a calendar with scantly dressed (if at all) men in it. So what did I end up getting? A calendar featuring lighthouses. I still don't know why I did that. :o/