At every time in the last six years, I have had a substantial collection of personal items stored in boxes somewhere other than where I was living. Generally, this has meant a closet full of big Tupperware containers, duct taped shut between visits.
When the chance or the need arises to dig through the stack, the result is a kind of auto-archeology. Things of persistent value tend to stay near the top of the stack, because they have been left there by past expeditions. Things near the bottom – rarely glimpsed – are likely photographs or letters from more than a decade in the past.
Today’s minor foray was motivated by a search for writable CDs for the Cabin Fever trip this weekend, so it was both superficial and unsuccessful.