Maybe it’s because we are now on a “fixed income”, or broken income as my husband likes to say, that I don’t want any more stuff. Or maybe it’s because I am trying like many others to de-clutter not only my house, but also my life, my mind, my spirit.
Or maybe it’s the cumulative effect of organizing or visiting too many family estate auctions where strangers casually handle the cracked and stained plastic dish as a dimes-worth instead of the near priceless platter for Aunt Alma’s deviled eggs at Easter.
But however I got here, to this tension between getting and tossing, I must admit that I am beginning to feel full up. Continue reading