My dad ended up repacking my clothes into boxes and shipping them to me. When the first package arrived this week, I was excited to break into my scarves and boots. THIS, however, is what I found:
-Pink Adidas backpack from 8th grade, containing my 8th grade algebra notes, a bouncy ball, half-finished "gimp" key chain, and unopened candy necklace.
-A blue polyester track jacket. The type a girl in drama club has to buy at Target to look cool because she doesn't play sports. Number "23," again not my number.
-Not one, but TWO, pairs of colorful Roo shoes. I thought these were so cool. The high top ones I actually bought for a clown costume when my best friend in high school made me take "Clown Class" with her. See above about how I wasn't on a cool sports team in 8th grade.
-Horrifying fuzzy scarf.
These are some things I will NOT be wearing this winter.
The best part though might have been the doodles in my algebra notes. I have self-diagnosed Restless Hand Syndrome, and I doodle in the margins of my notes to concentrate. I didn't realize it had started so early.
Good thing I clearly labeled that one as "sheep."
Thought this combined J and M was a sneaky way to disguise my middle school crush. SHAMED.
Anyway, I called my dad to inquire about all the odd stuff in the package, because I definitely did not pack it originally.
"Oh yeah," he said. "I had some extra room, so I looked for stuff that I thought was yours."
"But, daaad," I whined. "It's like my algebra notes from 8th grade! What am I supposed to do with it?"
"I guess it's time to do what you should have done in 9th grade: Throw it out."