Putting Everything Into Boxes

Why does a house look empty even when it's filled with boxes?

The strangest thing I do - I'm sure some others do, but how the hell would I know? - is take things, like, say, a pile of papers related to a particular time period, & stick them in a drawer.  So when one is, for example, packing things up in anticipation of a move, one finds a few months' worth of strange memorabilia.  A drawer or shelf thus filled, a new pile emerges someplace else.

So I've relived today parts of the six years I've lived in Kentucky in bits & pieces as I pack stuff away.  Here are cards sent to me on every possible occasion by the dear sister that died last years, one of which says something like, I hope you know how much I enjoy our conversations.  They always put a smile on my face.  Over here are forms & stickers relating to some period at WRFL or another.  Still here are items that go back even further, to my time in West Virginia, when I tried to work for a literacy program.  Our minds often don't need to form memories, they know they're stored in the bits & pieces of life we save on scraps of paper, opened letters, saved notes or flyers.

Some friends from Lexington are coming over tonight.  I hope it goes well.  I have much such nice people here, & I know at the end of the night I'll wish I were less introverted & spent more time with them.  Once a loner, I wrote somewhere, probably imitating or ripping off someone, always alone.

Damn, I have a lot of CDs.  I hope I have enough boxes!