I finally decided to clean up the attic. You see, over the years I moved several times, and each time, I had a few more boxes. Moreover, to the dismay of my husband, I don’t even unpack most of them. And now I decided to finally clean things up because I don’t even know what's in most of the boxes anymore. The purpose of the exercise is obviously to get rid of a bunch of surplus stuff which I won’t really miss. Obviously, I won’t want to throw away my souvenirs, but at least get myself organized. I’m sure I must have a couple boxes of photos but once I’ve finished sorting them out I'll scan them. On the stove that we are supposed to bring to the place of stove repair service laval, there was a big box. I decided to start with that one wich was so heavy I thought it contained books. The sorting was pretty easy except for my Agatha Christie collection: 82 books and an autobiography which I can’t decide whether or not to keep. I see myself as a teenager, buying these books one by one over the course of a summer, and devouring them in just an hour each. In another box, my heart almost stopped when I came across my dance shoes. My first heartbreak, a serious and painful one. I was fascinated by the tango for almost 6 months and even more importantly, I was in love with Pablo, my teacher’s son and assistant. He was only 24 years old and was absolutely charming with all the women dancers. But one day, he introduced us to his fiancée. A superb tango dancer with blazing red hair. The tango all of a sudden became less attractive to me and my shoes ended up in a box in the back of a cupboard. All these memories shook me a bit, I decided to put off sorting of the rest of my boxes until next week... or the next move.