The Weirdest Junk in My Room

Fall Cleaning

Last weekend I started cleaning junk from my room. As I got rid of my items, I was astonished at the number of things I owned. Even more surprising was how little I cared about each item. I figured out that there were pretty much three reasons I kept the stuff that I had.

1. I'd always had it so I just got used to it.
2. I felt morally obligated to keep it.
3. I had an emotional attachment to the item that linked me to a previous time in my life.

For some of these items, I could find legitimate reasons for my emotional attachment. For other items, there was almost no explanation. I would like to share some of the latter, because they are amusing. 

Russian Doll?

Is it Russian? Ukrainian? I don't even know.

An Old Souvenir from Corfu

This used to hold two blocks; one for the month and one for the date. The blocks were lost a long time ago, but this piece has been sitting at the bottom of my drawer for six years.

A Plush Lamb

When I was at Eastern European folk dance camp, the children created a puppet show. We knitted some sheep. This has been sitting on my top shelf for longer than six years.

My Old Inhaler

I had walking pneumonia in the middle of 8th grade, so I had to use an inhaler. To remember what true sickness is like (?), I kept this inhaler. 

A Rock I Kicked Around with My Friends at Camp

One year, I had some great friends at camp. We had a rock we kicked around. I kept it.

A Small Sparkly Hat

I bought this hat in the city because it was cheap and it looked ridiculous. I wore it once for a Halloween costume. No one knew who I was dressed up as that year. Not even me.

MRSA

This is pretty self explanatory.

Now for the Grand Finale

My Friend's Toothbrush

Alright, this one I am kind of embarrassed to share, but let us commiserate together. One time a friend of mine spent the night at my house. He and his girlfriend (I guess?) made out my guest room the night before. After they both left, I realized he'd left his toothbrush. My original thought was to mail it in a box to his girlfriend with the message, "Now you can have his taste in your month whenever you want!" Was it bad humor? Maybe. Was it my attempt to mess with her because I was jealous? In hindsight, probably. Thankfully I never sent it, but toothbrush had remained in my closet for the past two years.

Now, the toothbrush and its memories are finally where they belong: in a landfill.