Laboring over Stuff

I've come to realize that Stuff is the bane of my existence.  I'm serious.  The BANE of my existence.  The problem is...I love stuff.  We all do.  We've been taught to love stuff.  Yet, I spend an inappropriate amount of time tending to my stuff.  Stuff needs maintenance, stuff needs sorting/organizing, etc.  The reason my stuff needs so much maintenance is because I have too much of it.

I shouldn't have to organize stuff into smaller physical spaces in order to fill the recently vacated space with new stuff.  It's absurd.  But I do it all the time.  I can feel myself getting ready to go on a rampage with my stuff.  I can feel myself preparing to "clear the decks" and really digging down deep to get rid of things I don't need.

Part of this comes from the confrontation I had this weekend with other people's stuff.  I try not to pass judgment on other people and their things.  After all, we all have our personal stuff fetishes.  I'm comic books and books.  Tracy is kitchen stuff.  I know people for whom it is sports memorabilia, beanie babies, swizzle sticks, etc.  We all have our little niche of things we like to surround ourselves with, but it is really easy to undermine/undervalue another's things.

So, I begin at home.  I begin with me.  Last night I went through my closet and packed away a garbage bag full of clothes I don't need.  There are other closets and dressers yet to go, but I want to simplify.  I don't want to feel tied down by my things and the only way to come out from underneath it all is to get rid of it a single item at a time.