The junk in my trunk/house/garage/mom's storage bay.

My friend Ben has been back from grad school for several months and last weekend was the first time I'd been to his apartment. (= awesome friend)
While I wandered around his place half wanting to pick up random items to see how much they were because I felt like I was in a mini IKEA, I noticed how CLEAN it was.  Not just clean, clean.  Modern/Minimalist clean.   His place came out of a catalog. One that screams trendy classy bachelor with a hint of rock star.  I was sortof jealous.

After we left Ben's, I was super gung-ho to de-shit my house.  I'm a pack rat. This is no secret.  I can't throw anything away.  What if I need it one day? What if, in like, 47 years, it's worth money? *sigh*
I have far more crap than any under-30-year-old should.  I have a house that is completely full of treasures AND a garage.  And I keep finding more.
I have major anxiety separation issues from material objects.  Maybe they mean something to me, but more than likely, they don't... but I can't get rid of stuff.
What the fuck am I ever going to do with a 20 quart container full of beanie babies circa 1998?  I do not know. 
Can I get rid of them.  No.
Do I need an intervention? Yes.

On the way home (before dozing off and being woken to Manny slamming on the brakes and screaming making me borderline piss myself and spit drool as I screamed... I still need to MURDER him for that....*puts on To-Do list*)
I thought about stuff I could bear to part with. I thought that I'd try and get rid of some shit.

Fast forward to today.  So far I've given away a box of cabinish decor from when I first got married and my husband wanted his house to look just like his moms. This went to someone that actually HAS a cabin, so I felt pretty good about it.
I've also started a pile of random other shit. 
So far it contains baby yarn from 1975 and two games I've never played.
This is a big deal, people.

Ok, so baby steps.

I had a thought that I'd take all this stuff I plan on gathering to the DI, and then I thought about having a yard sale. AND THEN I thought that the 1975 synthetic baby yarn would probably be strong enough to hang myself with because the thought of having a yard sale makes me somewhat suicidal.   Love to attend yard sales, hold one, that's another story.

I guess I'll see how much crap I do gather up, and then maybe I'll just put it in the garage for a yard sale 10-12 years from now.   Yeah, that's it.