The move...

So we're moving a bunch of stuff around at my house right now and I'm beginning to think I may have gotten the raw end of the deal. I just relocated all of my books to a very strictly limited location (from an already strictly limited location, but one with a door that could be closed to hide any unsightly piles, a feature of which I took full advantage,) and I have realized that I don't have enough room. Not only can I never purchase another book, it looks like I'll have to get rid of about a hundred or so of the books I already have.

I'm sure I could comb through my library and find a hundred books I could live without, but the problem is that I'm a complete and total pack-rat and I don't want to get rid of anything ever. If I'm expected to get rid of books, objects with a millennium-long tradition of established value, what else will I be expected to get rid of? I have compiled a list of treasured items that will soon be gracing my curb (if you see anything you like, feel free to take it).

One surf board in fair to poor condition. It might actually be the only surf board in Indiana that isn't decoration inside an Applebee's.

Two bamboo bird cages. No birds. Birds smell.

One medium-sized self-portrait. It's so good it's almost a mirror.

Some drippy kind of artwork I did on part of an old desk using long-expired car-paint. If you turn it upside-down it looks like a painting of the sea floor.

A window from my mom's house. I know. How could I bring myself to part with it?

Two guitars. One of them once had someones (I feel like this word should have an apostrophe, but spellcheck says, "no,") foot through it, but I fixed it with hot glue and duct tape. The other one I got at Salvation Army for twenty bucks. Between the two guitars I count seven strings and a whole lotta rockin'.

Most of the other stuff I have given to my son who has become immediately attached to said items. In a month or so I'll sneak them out of his room and hide them away in various nooks and crannies throughout the house.

Anyway, I guess getting rid of stuff is what being an adult is all about. On a related side note, I have managed to retain all of my old Star Wars toys by hiding them in an antique army footlocker which is buried in my backyard. My wife can look all she wants, she's not finding anything.