Rearranging furniture and cleaning up my room turned into a three-hour trip down memory lane. I discovered receipts of some items, and remembered where I bought them, and who I was with. I rifled through things long untouched, and discovered old books, notes, freebies and gifts, and with them, thoughts long forgotten. I disposed of the clutter, and kept things that still have value. I can’t relate to some memories anymore; sure, I remember stuff but the feelings have long dissipated. Okay, scratch that. Maybe for a few fleeting seconds, I recall how things were, things that made me feel, think, get off, and smile. And then the feelings are gone, and I’m just thinking of buying more cabinets, and getting rid of the thick dust bunnies.