On Taking Out the Trash.

I just finished massively cleaning out the house. Tristin's Dad had left a bit of a mess behind him, and I seized the opportunity to get rid of a whole bunch of junk that I've been hauling around with me through the last 4 or 5 moves.

I feel great.

Stuff is overrated. It's the measure by which our consumer-driven society measures success. It's an anchor; it weighs us down; and I hate it. I don't like having to sort through endless mountains of crap. I don't like packing, and contrary to popular opinion I don't particularly like cleaning - I just do it because the alternative is pretty disgusting, when you think about it. So, having divested myself of the vast majority of my library, about 2/3 of my "wardrobe" (most of which I would probably never have fit into again), every single piece of clothing that Tristin has outgrown (except the outfit he came home from the hospital in; I did allow myself that much nostalgia) and a mountain of junk and trash that had been accumulating in the basement/garage, I feel refreshed and ready to move on.

I definitely think this was a great idea.