Purging Memory Lane

So, ever since I've returned from Florida, I've had a strange urge to go through my room and purge Memory Lane. I must admit - this came as a huge shock to my system because, as you all know, I will save sentimental somethings from years past until the plaster or paint is coming off in flakes. What can I say? I've been thrust into adulthood quite unwillingly - kicking and screaming, if I'm totally honest. So, I have boxes and boxes and boxes (okay, not really, but recently it's felt like it) of mementos - most of which (I hate to admit it), I haven't actually laid eyes on since I actually came into possession of the particular object.
But no more. I am purging Memory Lane.
To my credit, I started this project about two years ago while I was on my way to DTS and so antsy I couldn't sit still. Sorting, organizing and tossing were great therapy. I got through my closet and under my bed. Hooray! I can see what's down there (and honestly, thinking about it as I write this, I could probably stand to purge a little more there too)! It's a heady drug, this organization. And since during these past two years I have been moving more than I have been staying, that was no time for such activities. Honestly, when I'm in transitions, I am searching for something familiar and beloved from my Memory Lane to cling to. Not the best time to start throwing things. (That's usually when I'm hoarding and stuffing.)
But now that I have returned home something has come over me, and with a vigor unknown, I am tossing left and right. Don't get me wrong - there are those things from, oh say, 12 years ago that I cannot bring myself to part with. So, I allow myself a small bag of those precious keepsakes. Other things I have stored, saving them for my own children one day. But, there has been a huge shift in the things I have ready access to.
I was thinking about it, wondering how this monster was born in me. (It's like the cleaning and organizing Hulk - lying dormant until something makes me snap!) I've come to the conclusion that the room I was living in FL was much smaller than mine (which, since my room here in CO was built for twins, it's not hard). I could touch three of the four walls in my bedroom while on my bed. And I didn't have all my earthly belongings with me. I knew what I had and where it was. And when things started to feel cluttered, I was moving to CO and got to toss a bunch of the clutter. My whole Floridian life fit into three bags. It was amazing - I loved it! So freeing for this clutter-intolerant hidden Hulk(ess).
So returning to my memento-preserving, memory-filled, sentimental room was bound to unleash something in me.
Beware of the Hulk...she's on a rampage!