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By this time next week I should officially be a resident of...well, some other city besides my current zip code. I'm a bit excited about the whole living in a spanking new house in an, I suppose, okay neighborhood (although it's also a bit out of ways) but moving...isn't fun. It really isn't. Especially if you're a hoarder, like me. I'm a rat see. That means, I was born in the year of the rat (heh, did you think that...? never mind) and we're hoarders -- you know, in addition to being supposedly brilliant business minds or whatev. Being a hoarder, I have a lot of stuff. Pretty useless stuff, it turns out. Would you believe me if I tell you that I still have all my exam booklets from frickin' college? Yep. I'm a walking fire hazard, I tell you. Anyway, I used to like enjoy leafing through them on those rare occasions I enjoyed leafing through them. Not anymore. Gotta stop. I can't haul all these crap (admittedly) to the new house. Nu-uh. But even the whole process of sorting through everything is difficult because it's hard to let go. I mean, these things may be crap but they're my crap. These are moments of my life encapsulated in squiggly handwriting on cheap lined paper. Also, a ten-year-old potato chip that's probably seen better days. Ah, junk food. Where would I be without you? Anyway, my point is...it's hard, and some things I just can't get rid of.

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