old school projects, baby blankets, and mystery cords.
For years, I told myself I was “saving it until the kids were ready.” But my kids are adults. One is in a one-bedroom apartment, one just bought a townhouse, and one still lives with two roommates and claims to own “basically no furniture on purpose.” Meanwhile, I was moving around a high chair, three bins of dance costumes, and a bread machine nobody had used since 2012. At some point, storage stops being sentimental and starts being unpaid property management.
Why
