Things. Stuff. Knick-Knacks. Possessions. etc. etc.
It's a Love Hate relationship.
I enjoy the process of sorting, throwing away, donating, cherishing certain belongings....
but lordy lord, every time I have to pay big bucks to have my
'crap' thrown into a storage room, I can't help but think
Obviously there are a few things that I will keep till the end, such as
old family photos.
But that's pretty much it.
Everything else - including all the worn, pearled, stained, dated clothes, which financially I'm forced to wear, I want gone too.
Mind you, I really shouldn't complain.
I can pack everything I own into my mazda protege.
(minus my semi-recent purchase of a Bed+Frame)
Regardless, there's a desire, an urge to purge it all.
Then of course, a moment later the tides turn,
and I dream about decorating my home with things I love.
As I sit here on the floor of my near empty home;
I can't help but think
"oh lu, how many times have you been here!?"
No matter how many times I've 'been here'
Each time is never quite the same,