If that doesn't seem expeditious, you underestimate my book collection. Or maybe you don't, but you underestimate my internal mayhem.
In any case, most of the stuff I've got that belongs to someone else is books. And some movies. And I'm going to read them and watch them all back to back.
This doesn't mean I'm going to prioritize them, necessarily, or even probably, since I'll be concurrently reading other things that are arguably more important than your books. Things that might further (or start, to be honest) my career.
Stuff I'm supposed to read, as opposed to stuff of yours, which I borrowed as leisure reading (and watching) which has now become a chore, since I've had it for so long I now urgently owe it back.
But it means that when I finish one thing that isn't mine (not counting library books, which obviously have to be read first, since they'll actually cost me money if I keep them too long) I'll start another.
In due time.
*This doesn't include the hippo mug, which it's just my turn to have for awhile. (Sorry, Ms. Boynton. As it turns out, it wasn't you who put all those hippos in compromising positions.)
It also doesn't include Mom's copy of Fabulous Nobodies, which is actually Aaron's copy, although I still had my copy it turns out, so I didn't need to take it in the first place, and on top of that I've found another copy, so Mom, if you really want it, I could give you back that copy and give Aaron my first copy, which I'm pretty sure was his first copy in the first place, which would make your copy actually his second copy, and then I could keep the copy I just bought, and send you mine (his) and him his (yours) instead of keeping all three copies, where they are, here.
It also doesn't include things that I have an especial fondness for that no one else cares about, and which I probably never said I'd give back anyway, like the puffy green jacket that leaks feathers or the blue and red vinyl carry-on suitcase that hardly fits anything and falls off your shoulder all the time.
It also doesn't include André's piano, which I can't obviously just stick in a padded envelope and throw eastward, for christsakes. Or expendables (pens, for example; dollar bills, in whatever quantity).
Or pots and pans. (I burn them all, forgetting about beans.)
This also doesn't include Rasputin or Phoenix. I've decided to keep them (in a suitcase).
There is also no need to worry. Because sometimes really desperate people give everything away before they dive off the Golden Gate Bridge. I'm not giving everything away; just your stuff. Back.