I've spent much of the night sorting through boxes in the garage. Despite discovering all manner of "treasures," I've restricted my investigation of the items being moved to the minimal information required to make sure that they end up in a reasonably logical place. And this, my friends, is progress. At this rate I may actually start throwing things out in a week or two. Or I might just become a mass murderer instead, since it would take about as big a transformation for me to become the latter as it would for me to do the former.