Out With the Old

I've moved the majority of stuff out of my apartment. All that remains are a few odds and ends and the wasp carcasses from the Wasp Massacre of 2005.
Boxes of old notes from best friends dating back to junior high pulled me in as I cleaned underneath my bed. I sat there for hours flipping through hot pink Lisa Frank spirals and photo albums. I even found a few swim caps from high school. I pulled on them to test their elasticity, thinking that I might get back in the pool one of these days, but finally tossed them back in the box as trash.

I've been carrying around this stuff for years, making sure the boxes make it through each move, like one of these days I'll really want to remember who I had a crush on in 8th grade or what Sara was going to wear to prom.

I set aside a couple of boxes to keep and threw the rest away. I just can't seem to let go of it all.

The last time I got my hair cut, Meredith told me to come back before I move. I can't afford to get my hair cut right now, and I'm feeling a little bit guilty.

We finished the yearbook Tuesday night after working 16 hours straight. As Shelley laid out the index, Bonny and I giggled deliriously about nothing. We set off an alarm in the building when we went out for a smoke break, since we were there after hours. The cops showed up later, but we were so exhausted from work we just sort of ignored them.

So tomorrow I'll go back to Denton and clean out the rest and turn in my key.

And I'll finally say goodbye to that little college town.


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