I’m at the letter

I’m trying to spend 30 minutes a day culling and shredding. That’s all my itty bitty shredder can tolerate. After that, the teeth seize, the red-light-of-overheating shines, and things just get a little ugly.

It’s no secret that I’m on a purging binge. Lightening the load. I started writing about it here in November.

I belong to the culture of savers. Those who walked this earth before the throwers-away. I have saved everything since the day I was born. I can’t tell you when that was, because you would fall into a dead faint. I know I do every time I think about it. Let’s just say pre-Bieber and leave it at that.

I’m a hoarder, aka a packrat, a saver. I throw nothing away, because I might need it at some future star date.

Right now, I’ve got the monocular focused on the four-drawer file cabinet in my office. I bought it used ages ago. Okay. Maybe not ages, but some years back. And I have been stuffing it ever since. Stuffing it.

Now, I’m unstuffing it to make room for some files that are stacked on bookcases around my office. Files that actually have information in them that I want to keep….for now. Files that I might actually refer to in the next two years.

I’ve got two gigantic bags of shred for the garbage truck and Hunky Muscle Guy this morning and a couple of recycle bins. I hope he doesn’t get a hernia from the recycle bins. Packrat stuff weighs a ton.

Can’t wait for the Z letter. With Z you get Guinness.

Elen