OK, I should probably try and explain my reasons for this crazy scheme. I’ll start with what I’m using as the title of the blog – what I like to call Fear Of Stuff.
In the nine years since I’ve been employed and living in rented accommodation, I’ve moved house six times, and each time I’ve had to physically touch and account for everything I own. Even though I’ve always striven to be minimalist in the amount of crap I have (my collection of possessions probably looks rather paltry by most people’s standards), confronting it all always makes me feel uneasy. How much of that stuff does a person really need? Continue reading