Resurrecting the dying blog

At last, I have finished moving my unfathomably large mass of totally worthless belongings from my apartment. Sure, the task required most hours of the day for several consecutive days, but I suppose it was worth it if it meant saving a box of old 1st and 2nd year med school exams, college course notes, the boxes that once housed my speakers, stereo receiver, computer, and DVD player (you never know when you might need all that perfectly molded styrofoam and form-fitting cardboard again), five year old cleaning supplies, etc. I think that someone my age should have no difficulty filling a 10X10 storage room to the brim. It's perfectly normal.

On the other hand, I might just suffer from the particularly intractable hoarding variant of OCD, in which sufferers cannot for all the world bring themselves to part with even the most trifling trinket. Oh well, I'm sure OCD actually becomes more an asset than a liability in the world of neurosurgery, so my psychopathology should serve me well.

(Okay, okay, so in my defense I did throw out about 100lbs of "trash" from my apartment, including some items that many people would consider useful and worth saving. In all cases I had to squelch the little voice in my head that clamored for recognition, the Cassandraesque crier predicting in no uncertain terms the calamity that will surely befall the world if that rust-encrusted set of old forks and spoons reaches the garbage bin. It's going to be okay, right? Yes?)