I kind of changed directions of something I was writing so I'm post a wee bit from yesterday's writing jag.
There's a pretty strong sense of accomplishment that comes from finally unpacking the last box after a move. I'm not exactly the best at seeing thing through to the end in a timely manner so it's not surprisingly that two years after I left my old college apartment, moved across state lines and settled into my new job as a publicity assistant at a major book publisher, I was only just emptying that last box.
Looking back, I really wished I'd done it all sooner, or at least started with that one.
The last box wasn't labeled like the others because it was just a bunch of miscellaneous junk that didn't fit in anywhere else, stuff I almost threw out several times. In fact if I'd listened to my ex, who kept saying if you don't miss what's in there, if you don't so much as think you need something from it in more than a year, you should just toss it. I finally tossed something after a year but it wasn't that box of junk. That bit of advice might have been good, but when it was coming from someone who was cheating on me while I was interning and pretty much scraping the barrel of jobs to get my foot in the door, I didn't really want to listen to it.
So I threw him out instead and held onto the box. Both decisions turned out to be the right ones.