I have a love/hate relationship with stuff. I own too many things. Not all of it sparks joy, that Marie Kondo test to decide whether to keep something or eliminate it.
I’ve gotten rid of things along the way, but unless I move and have to do a major purge, things flow into my house at a faster rate than they flow out. Having lived in the same place for nearly 20 years, stuff has accumulated.
The percentage of stuff I use regularly is…small.
Some of the stuff is seasonal, stored until the season rolls around again.
Some is aspirational: those pants I’ll fit into once I’ve dropped 10-pounds.
Some is, if I’m brutally honest, fantastical: am I really going to read Daniel Pink’s To Sell is Human or George Lakoff’s Moral Politics?