Most of today I’ve spent wrestling with the reality that we have a very small apartment and too much stuff.
The problem is that too much of the stuff is “meaningful” in some way.
Where we lived when we got it. Who gave it to us. Who we were and what we were doing at the time. So many memories.
And then there are the things that surely can be put to use. The books I’m really going to read. The photos I can’t get rid of until I’ve looked through them one last time.
Argghhh!