In the case of Need v. Nostalgia related to all the objects in all the piles in my room and me moving out of my parents’ house and across the cornfields, I pronounce myself abjectly guilty of a lack of direction and motivation.
Most of this process has involved me looking around the room with my hands on my hips yelling “Someone needs to make some decisions around here!!! Stop adjourning for lunch! Your honor, may I state that you look terrible today.”
Plus I lack a cat army to boost my morale in my darkest hour (because I moved my lamp).
Every object actually gets an unfair trial wherein I bring up witnesses, bystanders, standers by, and other objects to testify on its behalf.
Exhibit A: Unopened Gift Soap
“I could use this when I want to evoke that I have class, and find it again in 6 years unopened.”
Dial Soap and Assorted Batrillion Travel Soaps say, “You will never finish all of us. It’s simple math!”
Exhibit B: 1996 Crossword-Puzzle-a-Day Planner With No Completed Puzzles
“I need to improve my brain speed.”
Motivational 2007 Calendar says, “But what about my quotes?! Boost your self-esteem with meeeee instead!”
Exhibit C: A Lock of Baby Hair
“Not even a monster would discard these follicles.”
Pink Bunny Baby Toy says, “It’s either him or me, man. Him or me.”
And let me just remind everyone that you need to appeal every emotion that is passed while looking at photos you did not realize you still had OH MY GOSH LOOK AT MY HAIR AND FRIENDS.
So basically we’re looking at a fairly long sentence with no possibility of parole. I’ve built this prison bed, now I must lay in it. OW. Get lost, slinky I thought I lost. I’m trying to be an unaccountable grown-up here, and I don’t need your whimsy.