The day the music died

Well, it has happened. I am officially now the guy in that commercial as he suddenly realizes that hi is in fact older than he thought of himself....(subliminal ly-buy life insurance, get a jaguar, call your mother with our long distance carrier).
My CDs are now in boxes in my kitchen. Diaper boxes, lest us miss an opportunity for extreme fittingness. They are to be displayed on a shelf, when I get around to constructing or contracting a shelf....yikes.
This is an improvement over the ill-thought out "tower of CDs" that was created to clear up shelf space for baby toys & such.
For years my CDs were my most cherished possessions. I was always an audiophile through my teenage years. I loved music. I used to get really into bands as I discovered them, or went through a phase, and bought accordingly. So my collection became “completist” (See: Pablo Honey).

I used to labour over the position of music on my bedroom shelves. Organized chronologially within artist. I used to feel that the music I listened to defined a bit of who I was as a person, said something (I believed) about who I was. Everything in my life has a soundtrack. There’s almost always music playing with everything I do.
Now the munchkin is cherished in a way and to a degree that these decisions (that before would’ve seemed painful or impossible) become easy.
Now truth be told, my ipod has made them all into 400 paperweights. But that’s not the point!!
It’s still poetic :)