boxes, part 1

I suppose this should be part 1,000,000,000,000,000. Oh well. I haven't written about the boxes (as a subject) so I say it can be part 1.

I picked things up in the living room. Didn't unpack any boxes, but did put some stuff away.

These boxes are mocking me.

They are.

Seriously.

OK, OK -- I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I am completely crazy because not only do I think the boxes are mocking me, but I am writing about it. Whatever. We all have our issues.

So these boxes. Did I mention that I've had most of them for nearly two years? (Some of them don't belong to me and have only been here one year.) Maybe I'll call it a style. You know, decor de cardboard...

What's in these boxes? I'll tell you what's in these stupid boxes. Almost every pair of shoes I own is in one of them. The problem is that I don't know which box they are in. And in order to find them, I'd have to go through the boxes, which, as you are by now aware, I cannot bring myself to do.

What else? I have no idea what else. Crap I own. Crap that's been stored in boxes for two years and which I probably don't even need at this point. But I can't just throw them out because there might be something important in there.

I know how good it would feel to get rid of them. So what the hell is my problem?

I still need a vacation.