My roommate accidentally threw out a large box she thought was garbage last night. It's really my fault, as I should have more clearly delineated what boxes belonged to me and what belonged to her absent sister (aka garbage).
What was in the box?
I don't really know. And that's what kills me. With over 60 boxes labeled and inventoried, this box contained the last objects I took out of the house where I've lived the past month. Thus, the box contained (at least):
My new Canon S2 IS camera
My favorite pair of shoes:
...which aren't made anymore. Seriously, I've never loved a pair of shoes as much as those.
My black belt
My rockstar jeans
The legs to my plastic storage stand
And...who knows what else.
The camera, which with SD card was over $400, doesn't really bother me. Yes, I'm in more debt right now than I've been in my life, without a dime in the world, and in need of a good camera to handle my experiences in Las Vegas in two weeks, but it's replaceable. So's the belt. The jeans were my favorite pair but I'm pretty sure I can get another pair for under ten bucks. The shoes aren't made anymore, and I'm really pained to know they're gone. There's other clothes that were in there too, I'm sure, but my clothes are in so many different boxes and bags right now that I really won't know until I go to put something on and find it's disappeared.
What really kills me is not knowing what else is in that box, buried by now in some Pinellas landfill. That lack of knowledge is eating away at me, and I think I need to go exploring the bars of Pinellas County for a drink or ten.
Great way to start my first full day in my new house.
60 boxes? Whew!
That's 60 labeled BANKER's boxes. There are a dozen or so other boxes with books, etc in them.
That's still a lot of boxes!