Laundry day is a very dangerous day.

I look around my room and all I can see is "stuff"... books and records and lots of random junk. I know I probably won't use up seven mugs worth of pens, for instance... well, maybe I will, in my lifetime, but not all of these pens that I have right now. I've already thrown out a few that've gone dry, earlier this year. Is it ironic that I'm typing about this on a computer keyboard instead of writing in a notebook with one of those pens?

Then again, I wouldn't 've gotten this far on paper, since admitting I have more pens than I can use would make me want to test them all out and toss the dead ones. The rest of the page would be covered in those spirally marks that tear through onto the next sheet if the pen doesn't write...

Nevermind the damned pens, I need to do something about all these books. I'm keeping the Mickey Spillanes and the John D. Macdonalds, but I could do without some of these others. I could say the same thing about a great deal of my music collection. I guess I have a hard time letting go of things. I think I'll start listening to more of it, write something here about it and whether I'll hang on to it or not...