Whose Stuff Is It Anyway?

One of the common refrains of the last week (other than "Are we ordering sushi or pizza tonight?") has been: "Where on earth did we GET all this stuff??" And the adjunct phrase, "Why on earth have we felt compelled to KEEP it??"

Why, indeed. You would think that years of moving, traveling, and reading New Age clutter-clearing manuals would have affected some of my choices regarding the accumulation of material possessions. You would think that living on a six-floor walk-up and knowing that I would likely be moving someday (and likely sooner rather than later), would have been a factor too. Not to mention my professed love of all things sparse, clean, and Japanese-y -- polished wood floors and bare furnishings and all that. But as usual, the reality is a bit far from the ideal. Even after wrapping up 5 meters cubed for shipping (some of which is shown here), selling furniture/appliances/books/etc., throwing out several large trash bags' worth, and giving as much as I could to friends without turning them into enemies - we still have so much left over!

It's truly staggering how much crap two people can collect in just a few years, even living in small apartments in Paris without closets or garages or basements (well actually we do have a "cave" - a French basement - but it gives me serious Catacomb-Phantom-of-the-Opera willies, and I've never gone down there, much less stored stuff in it.)

I suppose I just have to sigh and accept the fact that I'm more moss-gatherer than rolling stone, at least most of the time.

(Written while combing through piles and piles of papers and notebooks, really important essential stuff - like old yoga class schedules and real estate magazines from 2002...)