Half Empty Boxes

Many things have been packed away from me for a bit over a year now. Some of them I rejoice at the sight of, while others are greated with a noncommital Hunh. Of these later much probably could have just been thrown away, but it pains me to discard things which I could conceivably have a use for, or come back to nostalgiacally for one last bit of fun.

Other things, I doubt I've ever seen before in my life. I think the monkeys reproduced in storage, because this morning I was pulling from boxes monkeys that I don't recall ever meeting before. Some of them were very odd indeed. For the moment they're simply piling up in that indeterminate space which is neither living room nor hall, not dining nook or doorway. Eventually when more of the furniturey type things are in place they can wonder off to more varied and interesting homes.

Unpacking comic books is about the least productive. with the actual books, it's easier to resist the temptations to read, because you know that's a long commitment. But when I pull out a jaunty Alan Moore title I haven't touched in a year the rest of the box seems as though it could wait for a bit.

Some of my belongings are rather disconcerting. But you probably would have assumed that.

Some of these boxes could probably remain boxed mostly up for another year. I know there were a few at the last apartment that stayed half-full permanently, becoming the proper place for such items to such degree that if used, the objects would simply be returned to the box when done. I wonder how much headway I shall make against the boxes this time?