The objects of my affection.

Idea #37 from the magic book: if my apartment building was on fire, and Her Maj was safely caged and outside, what would I run back for?

Practically speaking:

• My iPod and charger. (Yes, this IS practical. Now shut up.)
  
• My wallet, social security card and passport.
• A Clif bar to tide me over while the chaos dies down.
  

Sentimentally speaking:

• My fifteen year old collection of concert ticket stubs.
• Riley's ashes.
• My marathon medals (one from the AIDS marathon gang, one from the actual marathon and a very cute silver "26" on a chain that some friends gave me after the run).

I'm not much on stuff, or sentimentality. Being frugal and moving four times in ten years has really helped to curb the "stuff" tendency (although I have more stuff now than I ever had before, and I'm dreading this impending move - my next apartment will be HALF this size so that I don't collect more stuff). And not wanting to remember much of the past has really helped the sentimentality bug. I have two shoeboxes of photos and another shoebox of negatives/CDs of photos, but in general all the photos I'd want to recreate are now safely online or at my parents' house. (Well, almost all - but I'm about to fix that.)

This reminds me... I've GOT to get those earthquake kits together. I stumbled across the cans of beans I put in the bottom drawer in the kitchen (a.k.a. my only lame attempt, ever, at an earthquake kit) and noticed the 1999 "best by" date. The flashlight in the drawer next to my bed has dead batteries. I have no radio that does not require electricity. And I ate the last Luna bar I had stashed in my car this weekend while I was running errands.

Mother Nature, take pity on a slacker and wait just one more week, okay? I'll recycle extra hard this week, I promise. Thaaaaaaaanks.