Cleaning

For the last week I've been up to my elbows in old junk that's been stored in our upstairs storage area since we moved in. I've knocked almost 10 boxes of stuff down to 2 (not counting seasonal clothing and decorations). I threw away a lot of knick-knacks that just don't fit into the house anymore and kept only a few items that I love (and have thus displayed) or that have sentimental value to me (a cross stitch made by my sister Jennie, for instance, and two very intricate and lovely beaded necklaces made by my sister Sandie.) I've also managed to sort through all of my pictures (the ones taken on film and printed) to throw out the bad ones and put all of the good ones in albums. (Oh, don't get too excited by that, I didn't label them or anything, just stuffed them into slots in the books.) I've felt really good doing it, and I feel like we're officially moved in. Is that weird or what? I guess when you have all of that stuff in storage, it's in the back of your mind that you want to get it set out in your new place, and you don't feel that you're "in" until you do it. In my case, I realized how little of it I wanted or needed and so I can relax and say that I'm officially home.