Tonight Jeremy and I were organizing our CD and DVD collection in preparation for the move. We don't have much time left here in Moscow and the giant stress-clock in my head is tick, tick, ticking away. My stress dreams, which usually involve a college class I'm about to fail, now revolve around closets full of heirlooms that the movers forgot to pack and which can't be mailed or taken on the plane.
We got rid of a few items - movies that we will never watch and kids' CDs received as gifts that I can't stand to listen to. Most of the rest, even the 90 percent that we never watched or listened to during this tour, were carefully packed in a bin to ship to Georgia.
Among those are a number of CD-RWs with no labels on them. Are they blank? Did I record something on them and neglect to label them? I don't have a clue. It was just going to be too much work to figure out and I had other things to do. But I couldn't throw them away, lest they have something important on them. So into the pack-out bin they went.
And I'm pretty sure that is exactly what happened in the last pack-out.
Maybe in Georgia I'll finally figure out what's on them.