The battle with myself

I've been busy rooting through my mega-piles of schtuff, and trying to figure out how to cram 3 bedrooms, two baths, one barn and one shed into 20 feet of camper trailer. Not an easy feat, lemme tell ya!

"Where to start" Me wonders, wandering around from room to room, poking my nose into closet after closet, a cupboard here and a drawer there. "Ok, start here, in this room" I say. Me says, "Ok, that sounds like a good idea."
So Me and I pull out a box and start digging in stuff that is gold to me, junk to anyone else. Me wonders why in the world I still have this thing? I think, 'I can't throw that out, someone, sometime, somewhere gave it to me'. Me says, "Throw the dumb thing out, it's been wrapped in this paper for... how many years?" Me checks the date on the paper the dumb thing is wrapped in. "Good grief!" Me exclaims, "2004?? Throw the stupid thing out! It's been wrapped for 6 long years!" I close my eyes and toss it. I drag it back out. I throw it away again. I sigh deeply and pull the next wrapped object out of the box, wondering what it might be.
The battle thus rages for several weeks, box after box, I feel like it's Christmas morning, unwrapping things I forgot I had. Me wonders when I became a pack-rat. I feel guilty throwing out things that un-remembered people gave me, sometime, some holiday somewhere.
After several weeks of this guilt-ridden battle, I was happy to note that I managed to cull 20 boxes into 12. Me thinks I didn't do a very good job of getting rid of forgotten junk that who-remembers-who gave me sometime somewhere long, long ago. And Me knows that 12 boxes is way too much to schtuff into a space 20 feet long and 7 feet wide. I sigh heavily, knowing that Me is right. After much guilt-ridden work, many 'yeah-but's' and more sighing, I managed to cull 20 boxes into one admittedly large box of 'very special schtuff' that Me just had to lose the tossing battle and let I keep.
Me doesn't know just what the flock I'm going to do with this large box of very special schtuff, except put it in storage, but for now I won the battle, at least to a degree.
Next I look lovingly at my many, many books. It didn't look like that many until I had 11 boxes neatly packed. Me say's, "No way, you are NOT dragging 11 boxes of books up the road and putting them all in storage!" I went through and culled one bag and one box, "There, I'll donate these." Me thinks, 'uh uh, girly-o, get rid of more'! *Sigh*. My beloved books. "But this is such a good book," I argue. Me says, "How many times have you read it? A dozen? When's the last time you read it? 10 years ago? Put it in the donate box!"

*SIGH*
Ok, I didn't do too good with the book project. I still have 5 boxes. Books are so hard to get rid of.... *sigh*. Me says shut up, Me is so mean!

The final decision that Me and I agree upon is this: I will live under a big leaf in the woods before I ever have this battle again! Pack rat. Shut up, Me.