I hate moving house.

Like, the unpacking and having a new place and new pastures to frolic in and all that is great. But the packing and the moving itself? It’s far too much. I don’t know how snails or tortoises do it. 

I have a suitcase full of books, and boxes full of plates and pictures and ornaments (yes, I am an ornament person) – yet I am still surrounded by stuff. Mountains of it. It leaves me only one conclusion to make.

I’m a hoarder.

A human squirrel. I hide my nuts then forget where I put them. Although they aren’t nuts. More like books. Magazines. Necklaces. Anything really. 

Today, this will change. A nearby charity shop will be receiving a healthy donation of a variety of…well, everything. And I shall be starting a new, minimalistic life.

Pfft, as if. Bring on the boxes, it may be a mountain of crap to you, but they’re treasured belongings to me and I’M KEEPING THEM ALL. 


2 thoughts on “Hoarding”

  1. I don’t think we ever know how many things we actually own until we have to move. And then comes the time to decide: do we keep them all or is it better to get rid of some, throw away others, make gifts of a third lot, send some stuff to charity, keep the things we love and need, keep the things we don’t need but couldn’t do without… So many decisions – so little time, and then after a while it starts all over again.
    Good luck with the move. I usually try to think of it as a game just to keep sane and find some enjoyment in the process 🙂

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