Tidying up my desk area has made me more aware of the small army of tchotchkes that I have. What's even more frightening is that the shelves in my old bedroom at my parents house is also filled with them, just to pull a book off the shelf you need to clear off the space in front of it. If there were some ongoing theme to it all I could pass it off as a collection, but there is no theme other than they were either gifts or struck my fancy in some way.

My brother and I used to call cleaning our rooms "searching for treasure" since we'd always rediscover relics from our childhood. But all my childhood relics are stored away in my old bedroom at my parents house, so there really isn't "treasure" to find in a place where I've lived for only a year, at best maybe I'll find some loose change.