Help, I'm still cleaning out my desk!

When people clean out their desks in the movies (which exemplify life as it should be), the contents --including the sad little philodendron-- all fit neatly into a banker's box.

After filling half a recycling bin, I've managed to pare my stuff down to about 2 and a half banker's boxes full. That would be okay, but for the little voice inside me that squeals "No way are we putting that shit in our house!" Don't worry, little shreiker. Some of it will go into my next office space. More will be recycled. I may not get the load down to a glamourous banker's box sized package, but I will not clutter up my home with more nonsense than is necessary.

The trickiest bit will be making sure I've scrubbed every crag and crevice of my computer of anything embarrassing. It's not that I spent hours surfing the web for digital nasties. It's just that back when I was a temp, I would frequently work on the computers of people who recently moved on or gone on leave, and from the stuff they left on their machines practically out in the open, I'd learn more about them than if I'd actually worked at their side for years. Like I really wanted to know the details of a stranger's penchant for the drudge report or girl on girl action. Honest, I didn't.

Most of the people in my office know my quirks and fascinations well enough already.