No, I'm not bulimic. It just feels that way with reference to our house. We buy things and accumulate junk until we get to a point where the junk seems overwhelming. Then we pitch it out with extreme prejudice, wondering where it all came from.
I spent this morning cleaning with Karen while the kids play with some friends. That keeps them nicely distracted while we purge the trash, accumulated ancient school papers, broken and/or unplayed with toys, and pages that have been well colored. We threw out three 33-gallon garbage sacks of this stuff this morning and we're well on our way to filling a fourth. And that's just from downstairs!
Where did all this stuff come from? Who knows, but it feels cleansing to pitch it. I can already feel a sense of calm descending on my soul...
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