Where Do All of the Bobby Pins Go?

A standard package of Goody Bobby Pins contains 60 bobbies.

I use 1 or 2 in my hair when I need them...

How often do you buy bobby pins?

I probably buy them 2 or 3 times a year. That's roughly 180 pins. Not to mention the pins that I borrow/steal...so let's say 200.

200 bobby pins a year.

Is it just me, or do they disappear at an unnatural rate?

Seriously...where do all of the bobby pins go?

I cannot begin to impress upon you how hard the last week of my life has been.

Here's what you need to know about me to understand my situation...

I am the most unorganized person in the world.

I am messy.

My sister and I shared a room until she left for college, (incidentally, my sister, Burton, is the neatest, most organized person in the world.)

She divided our room down the middle with scotch tape. Her side was neat and clean, mine could barely be seen through the dirty laundry.

I have lived in my apartment for three years...things accumulate.

I thought getting the furniture out was going to be the hard part...well, thanks to a generous friend of my dad's offering the use of a trailer and a storage unit, getting the furniture out was a piece of cake.

It's what's left behind that's hard.

Piles of crap, (in a nutshell.)

Things that I've tucked away in drawers or on shelves for the past three years.

Clothes that I've been meaning to get rid of.

Knick-knacks that people have given me.

Birthday cards. Christmas cards. Pictures. Magazine clippings. Magnets. Drawings from Mia and Lucy. Receipts from my semester abroad in Italy. Old cell phones. Borrowed books. Jewelry I'd forgotten about. Countless film negatives from my pre-digital age. Etc., etc., etc.

What do you do with these things? Where do they go?

If I were moving into my new place right away I don't think it would be as hard...but I promised myself when this happened that I would weed through all of this bullshit.

I promised myself that nothing would go into a box unless it was absolutely needed, and clean.

If I were moving into a new place right away, I could dust these things off, throw them into a "misc." box, and be done with it. When I moved in I would have shelves and drawers to utilize, after all.

But I am moving three years worth of "misc." into a single bedroom in my parents' house. I don't know how long I'm going to be there. I suppose I could just throw everything into a box, put it into storage and deal with it later.

But would I deal with it later?

Or would it just go into the garage or into a drawer and haunt me the next time that I had to move?

This move has not been easy. It wasn't my decision to go. I wasn't ready.

So what can I gain from the situation?

I can de-clutter.

I can force myself to go through all of this now. Be free of it.

Then, maybe, next time, I'll be ready.

Yea. Well, easier said than done.

I spent the day trying to sort through my mess. All of the things that, for one reason or another, I've held onto.

Whether or not I am a hoarder, (which I am, I don't have 40 cats living in my basement, but I am a hoarder,) each of these things has a memory or a sentiment attached to it.

I headed to my apartment this morning, (which I haven't been able to bring myself to sleep in since I knew that I had to move, it just hasn't felt like mine,) armed with several black garbage bags and a docking station for my iPhone.

I began to sort through my mess to the soundtrack of my favorite Glee Pandora station.

(Seriously, y'all, everything in life is better to the soundtrack of Glee.)

I was doing pretty well for the first hour or so. Threw out a lot of random things that I knew I did not need to keep.

But, gradually, things began to get harder to sort through.

The tears started when I had to take everything off of my refrigerator door.

The tape that I'd used to stick a picture from Mia 2 years ago was so strong that it ripped the paper.

The take-out menu from my favorite delivery place in the neighborhood, (that I haven't used since I went Vegan.)

A thank-you note from the first family I photographed professionally.

The invitation to my best friend's wedding.

I know that moving doesn't take these memories away from me, or even diminish them. But I lived here when I experienced these things. I became an adult here. It was my first home. And facing these memories makes the move, for a sentimental fool like me, just that much harder.

This move has not been easy.

And while I cannot wait to be through with sorting through it all, I am dreading the moment when I finally am able to look around at an empty, clean apartment...close the door and walk away. When all that's left is my Glee soundtrack.

And the box of bobby pins that I've accumulated over the last few days.

Until then.