Back in 2006, Katsu and I moved out of our first apartment. It was sad, you know, because we’d had so many good times there, but, honestly, by the end of the day I didn’t know which end was up. We hadn’t allowed enough time to pack properly, and as such spent most of the afternoon frantically shoving clothes into garbage bags. A cursory unpacking left us with this:

A sorry sight, at best. It had taken Katsumi, myself, and five of our friends two trips EACH to move all our things. Imagine my delight when I found that one of these Things was a half-used bag of dirt. I mean, this was four years ago right, so I have no clear recollection of the conversation.

But I imagine it would have gone something like this:

me: a bag of dirt?
katsu: yeah, what?
me: a BAG of DIRT?
katsu: it’s good dirt!
me: what?

I know this because this past summer, while moving OUT of the apartment pictured above, I found the bag of dirt under the dresser, covered with a full coat of Jake fur. And Katsu and I had the exact same conversation.

me: this bag of dirt?
katsu: yeah, what?
me: we still HAVE this bag of DIRT?
katsu: it’s good dirt!
me: WHAT???

I made a concerted effort to rid myself of as much dead weight as possible when I moved from East Boston. I was throwing away birthday cards, I was selling things on consignment, I donated box after box of books to Lorem Ipsum. Don’t get me wrong, I still had a lot of stuff, but I’m just saying.

So B! and I are getting our things settled in the new place, and I’m unpacking this box, and inside the box is an empty box. I ask B! what’s up.

B!: it’s a prop.
me: it’s an empty box.
B!: but, it’s a prop!
me: *sigh*

I still say an empty box is an empty box, and a bag of dirt is just a bag of dirt, and I wouldn’t move either of those things across TOWN, never mind across the COUNTRY, but honestly? I have this baggie of rice noodles that I’ve been carting around since I don’t know when.

So really, maybe we all have our Bag of Dirt.