Several months ago, while cleaning (and purging) in my attempt to move out of our last remaining storage unit, I discovered something very disturbing about myself. Something I didn’t previously know.
I am a hoarder. A secret hoarder, which is the worst kind.
When I rolled up that storage unit door to reveal my hodge-podge of possessions, I immediately felt suffocated, confused and completely . . . → Read More: Keeping a “Kid” Journal, Easy as 1, 2, 3