At war with our stuff

There was almost a fight between the Project Manager and I yesterday about vacuum cleaners.

I say "almost" because I was able to navigate myself between the shoals of fight-dom and land on the beach of "contructive talk-island"

And THAT was awesome... we were able to settle on a joint feeling that we are at war with our own possessions.

They encroach on us, invade into our space, and push us around, often literally and physically.

Some of it is toys... some of it is... books, some of it is old furniture.

Ok, so what if I took a chunk out of our toys, and that freed up enough space in our living room to put our books, which let me get rid of the white bookcase that is kinda crappy? Or the top of it? I could get rid of just the bad top of it...

Then there's the kitchen to get rid of. But that's mostly ok.

Oh, then also, a friend laughed at me and said he's always thought of the Project Manager and I as models of of spartan living.

So that was also comforting.