Here stuff, there stuff, everywhere stuff, stuff

We've got a lot of stuff. I am not sure why I am acutely aware of this right now, but for some reason I am feeling a bit claustrophobic in our little abode. It's not as if someone has dumped a truck of boxes on us, it's just closing in on me a bit.

I am certain it's a combination of the boxes and bags of gifts already cluttering our guest room, the knitting projects needing attention scattered around the house, pie ingredients filling our counters, boxes of stuff emptied from our drawers en route to St. Vincent DePaul. That and the impending holiday decorating; as much as I love it, it does mean dragging out more stuff.

I have been on a bit of a house cleansing binge lately, trying to rid ourselves of unneeded and unwanted items. A girl doesn't need two drawers of socks, 65 chip clips, two tubs of dried up paint, or bins of rejected bath gels. Slowly, but surely, I am making a dent.

I find I spend a lot of time maintaining our stuff: putting this away, folding this, dusting that, organizing another. And I resent the amount of time my stuff takes.

Thing is that I often dream of ridding us of the load of our stuff: tossing it all in search of some sort of simplicity. Paring down to what's necessary and what's important such as buckets of yarn, cabinets full of butter cookies and shelves full of books.

It's a dream, however, as for some reason we think we need all of this stuff; and I suspect when I say "we", I really mean "me".

I am trying, though, in small steps to at least declutter our lives. I look around and others don't seem to have complicated their existence with so much stuff. Still others seem to be deeper immersed in stuff than we do. I guess it's all about finding a happy medium. Thing is, my medium is covered up in stuff.

A view from our window a few weeks ago. Sadly now it is bare and winteresque.