There is nothing that can invoke greater fear in my heart than the words, we’re moving. Truly, I’m starting to stress about an event that is about 9 years in our future.
Because of the accumulation of stuff. Lots of stuff. Rooms of stuff.
Kids moved out and stuff moved in kind of stuff.
How did I acquire all this stuff? Part of it is because I’m a packrat. I like to keep the stuff that I bought. Others must be a holdover from a previous life. Oh, look a screw, I can’t throw that away, I might need it some day.
I need to use the stuff that I have and start giving away the stuff that I don’t use. Which sounds a lot easier than it is. Because I might need that stuff one day.
So I plan to start looking at the stuff I’ve accumulated very carefully in the hopes that one day I can put it in the bin to give to charity. I’m sure other people can use my stuff:D.
Then again, I do have nine years.
And books don’t count as stuff. I don’t care what my husband says. Everyone knows a dream home has a library:D
Until next time.