When in Doubt, Throw it Out

I have nightmares about being swallowed alive. Not by a sink hole, or Godzilla, but by my stuff. Despite the fact (or maybe because) we New Yorkers live in smaller spaces and are forced to pare down our possessions to a degree. I did a big toss-out with a bunch of friends before John arrived, but once he got here, so did more things. He has clothing, blankets, diapers, a Diaper Genie, a Pack 'n' Play, an exersaucer, a jumper, another kind of bouncy exerciser thing, a Kick 'n' Play chair, a swing, a playmat gym, a car seat, a Bumbo seat, a clip-on high chair, and a stroller. The other night I had one of my recurring dreams that I discovered a tucked away space in my apartment, another room I had managed never to notice before, in which I could conveniently store some of these items. Like I said, it was a dream.

Anyhow, you know you have too much crap if your wife dies underneath a pile of junk, her decomposing body going unnoticed for four months, and you think she ran away. But maybe at that point it's too late to know you had much crap. Either way, now you know, I guess.

Feng shui philsophy says a good place to start is with 9 things a day. You don't have to go big or go home; if you have a dozen empty beer cans in your bed, just throw away nine. It'll get easier from there. So I'll toss 9 things tonight if you do...