We are continuing the seemingly endless job of getting rid of our stuff.

Yes, I know!

You’d think this would have been done by now. In fact, I’ve had more than one person say, “You’re STILL doing that?”   And yes, it seems that we still are, in fact, dealing with our shit. Thanks so much for asking…

We’ve been here since Saturday and I’m still having little mini-breakdown moments…in fact, I’d say a couple of times a day I lose it over something stupid like donating another huge pile of framed photos (nowhere to hang them, so pull out the picture and donate the frame), the previously-edited pile of my articles and newspaper clippings that I ceremoniously dumped into the recycling bin (why do I need them?), heave-ho-ing the broken china and tiles that were going to be transformed into a beautiful mosaic (really Colleen? Really?), but mostly I just feel overwhelmed and weepy over the staggering amount of journals and photo albums.

Does anyone’s life need to be so incredibly documented? (We’re not even talking about the ridiculous number of digital images that I have yet to organize. That’s a whole other mess).  It’s a bad sign when I start thinking that they had it figured out, back-in-the-day, when photos were a huge, and very occasional, event.

The good news is that we’re both getting pretty ruthless. Enough is enough (obviously). We are not going to rent storage space so that we simply delay the inevitable. No sir. This stuff has got to go.

I’m keeping my eye on the prize; freedom from stuff. Freedom to travel. Freedom.

So on it goes. One closet at a time. One shelf at a time. One cupboard at a time.

One breath at a time…I’m starting to see, and feel, the light.