Pictures Of You

I haven't read that one best-selling book about decluttering your life, but I don't think I have to. The urge to cleanse comes on like a fever now and then. For me, life feels lighter when you open a drawer and dump its entire contents in the trash. Byeeeee.

But what about photos. Do they count as clutter? I'm gonna argue somewhat controversially that yes, yes they do—and I just dumped a whole bunch.

I don't like going back to things. Moments. Haircuts. Old apartments. Forward is my natural motion. And from this 30-something vantage, I do quite honestly believe I'm living the best moment that has ever happened RIGHT FREAKING NOW. Self-helpy, I know. Ugh. But seriously, the more I get to thinking about it, the more the fact that I even have a now seems so fortunate, so impossibly lucky, well it may as well be gold dipped.

So I threw away so many old photos.

It felt glorious! All the trips to Europe with all the old buildings. If I want to see the Eiffel Tower, I'll just look it up. Yes, and all the party pictures. I lived ’em—but I don't need to hang on to ’em. Oh, and hey, all the times I fell in love and then so completely out. Later. Ciao. Au revoir.

I did save a few select pics, though—most of them heartbreakingly cute pictures of old friends and pets. There is a method to my madness.