We are moving home.
Exactly 12 months after our last move we are putting our stuff in boxes, bags, vans and cars to turn another house into our home.
Last year when we moved it was a significant downsize and we gave so much stuff to Oxfam that our annual giving report they send so you can put a value on your altruism made me feel guilty. Guilty that we had acquired so much stuff.
So it starts again
Those boxes are full of books. Another pile have gone to Oxfam this week and the ones that are left are those that when you pick them up your heart races. You turn it over, smell the pages. You sit down right where you are and flick through the pages. They go on a pile by the side of your chair. The read before packing pile.
My books aren't stuff. Husband's tools aren't stuff. My yarn and needles aren't stuff. Teenogre's stuff isn't stuff. It's our life. It's who we are. Without our stuff are we just empty shelves?