First rung of the ladder

So we've done what we wanted and in the thick of an economic recession, me and the good lady Samantha have just the formalities to complete before we've bought our very first house. Brick and mortar to call our own after some serious shrimping - with plenty more to come - and years of paying the bottomless, hairy, rent monster who I'd like to name Brian.
The theory goes that with house prices barter-ably low at the moment, in three years or so there's a profit to be made - capital for a bigger and better pile of well arranged bricks and mortar.
It's unbelieveable how quickly it's all happened and now, amid a week off from typing on another computer screen, I'm neck deep in Morrisons banana boxes, and it's amazing what I've found as I've tried desperately to resist my natural hoarding instincts to whittle down the number of said former fruit carrying cardboard things.
For instance, did you know that on March 25, 1991, my mate Andrew brought his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles game to school... no neither do I and you probably care about that nugget of useless information as much as I understand why I felt that that must have been so important for me to record in my diary at the time. I've found a whole collection of diaries among the clutter stashed at the bottom of our gorgeous, tip-bound pine wardrobe, as well as a wire-free, sun-died original PlayStation and a remote controlled Mini Cooper without the remote.
It's discoveries like that, and my complusion to inter-garble about them, which means that it's now Tuesday night and I've only filled six or so boxes, mostly with easy-to-reach-from-my-sofa CDs, DVDs and books. And I've still got a single fully inflated tyre from a 2000 Renault Megane sat outsid my back door that I have no idea what to do with or why I thought it was a useful curio worth stripping from the boot of my third car that got written off.
The packing continues, thanks for 'listening'...