Because I Have Pictures

As I have decided to move forth with faith, hoping that my house dream will come true, I continue the packing process.

And here is my question:  why on earth wasn't I born closer to the era with digital journaling and scrapbooking?

I guess I shouldn't complain since I've been doing both for over ten years.

But before that, I mean.

Because do you know how much space journals and scrapbooks take up?

And how freaking heavy they are when you gather them all together and try to fit them into one box (which eventually became three boxes) and try to carry them down the stairs?

I have always been a prolific writer.  Whether or not I've ever had anything important to say is debatable.  But dammed if I didn't write it down.

And pictures?  Yeah, I've got 'em!  Are they of things people actually want to see?  Not so much.  Oh, I like to look at them and laugh and wonder what on earth I was doing in them because my memory apparently sucks (which is news to me) and I never actually labeled anything because why would you want to label stuff when you're too busy doing really, super awesome clip art from your sweet 1996 Dell?

You know the funny thing about journaling?  I have literal stacks of journals full of writing.  And when my kids get old enough to wonder what kind of an idiot their mother was in high school (oh, I like to pretend I wasn't, but let's be honest, there are exactly ZERO kids who weren't idiots in high school.  The brand of idiot varied, but yes, we were all idiots.  Except Husband.  Who says he was not and I just roll my eyes and say, "Ok, sure"), those babies are going under lock and key until I die. Because they don't need any further encouragement and I really, really don't need to hear, "But mama, you did it!" like ever.

Maybe I should bonfire them.