In which I accidentally left behind my toothbrush and checkbook

In the process of my slap-dash departure from DC, I realized how much stuff I have collected over my years at school. Things that at the time I'm sure I felt were integral to my survival, but in reality served only to clutter my drawers and make packing a living hell. After clumsily bribing the curbside check-in man (for the second time) to not charge me for my overweight bag, I began to wonder what the purpose of this accumulation really was. I was not any more fulfilled with my 14 long-sleeved t-shirts than I am with the 6 that I have trimmed down to currently. My jeans do not make me a better person. Each extra piece of clothing, jewelry, or silly tchotchke I have collected serves only as a tether attaching me to my current locale. They make packing difficult, travel cumbersome, and the prospect of simply staying where I am that much more appealing. In my hoarder-like tendencies, I see the apprehension and anxiety I try my best to suppress at the prospect of picking up and moving across the globe for 6 months. So now that I am home, I have begun a long-overdue overhaul of my possessions. I have thus far filled three large shopping bags destined for Goodwill, and I anticipate at least three more. The part of me eventually destined for A&E's "Hoarders" chokes back bitter sobs, but the rest of me is comforted with the knowledge that I will move into this next phase of my life slim, trim, and with no extra baggage.