My mom is a big believer in stuff=evil and would do regular purges of our belongings. I would get home from school sometimes to find she'd decided to "get rid of clutter" around the house and take a carload of eeeevil materialistic belongings to the charity shop. Of course, I'd invariably find that she'd tossed things I cherished sentimental attachments to and had wrapped up safely out of sight. "But you weren't using it...!" she'd tell me. I have this twitchy fear that if I don't see something, don't touch it and use it every day, or at least very frequently, it will disappear into one of my mother's whimsical purges. So, maybe I don't neeeeeeeeeeed all the stuff we have, but everything I own I have thought about, considered well and usually have because it serves some purpose in my life
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We have some of these moving/unpacking feelings in common, it appears. :)
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