“Do you really need that many tubs for your Star Wars stuff?” she asked.

I can’t remember which part I hid from her — that I’d already used the ten tubs I had from the last time we moved, that I’d already bought and filled ten more, or that I needed another ten to finish packing — but by the time all the tubs had been filled, there was no hiding the hoard.

Until we get settled, there’s a chance my Star Wars collection may remain in storage for a few months. I don’t want my things to get crushed. I don’t want them to get wet. I don’t want them to get nibbled on by mice. I want them safe, protected from the elements and curious critters.

The tubs have escaped from the room and now fill the hall leading to the stairs and the landing outside my room. Forty years of collectibles.

The tubs don’t contain anything else. There are no books, no clothes, no pots and pans or anything else in the tubs. Just toys.

A few of the tubs hold things I never want to part with. Most of them hold things that surrounded the things I never want to part with. A few of them hold things I don’t remember buying.

I’ll be moving thirty tubs full of Star Wars toys to the new house. How many of them make it out of storage and into the new house, I’m not sure.