January 7, 2014
About 25 years ago, during a visit to my parents' house, my then-boyfriend and I cleaned out the closets and drawers of my bedroom. I'm not a "hoarder", but I do attach sentimental value to personal items, especially the longer I've had them. In a rare few moments of manufactured bravado or contrived coolness, I decided to toss a mass/mess of spelling quizzes from the very early 1970s, all neatly printed in No. 2 pencil. "These aren't that special. Why do I need them?" I said, trying to convince myself I didn't, knowing damned well I was full of #2.