Clutter

Friends have described me as a minimalist, an adjective I like, but if you looked inside my closets or garage you might conclude otherwise.  How I've accumulated so much stuff mystifies me and yet when I look at the individual items there's logic to the madness.  Bolts of fabric left over from reupholstering chairs and couches, Cd's which have been downloaded onto my computer, dishes from my grandmother, lamps that no longer fit with my decor, art that used to hang on my office walls, tiles from a bath redo, an unused mini Weber grill purchased by an ex-boyfriend who anticipated the next big earthquake, furniture and carpets from an inheritance.  Although the space I live in is still somewhat unobstructed what lurks in the concealed spaces is haunting me like a poltergeist.  My garage reminds me of the homes of the hoarders portrayed on TV.  A narrow path exists from my laundry room door across my garage to my car.  The clutter suggests I'm somewhat I don't want to be, a consumerism.  For many years in my closet one would find only one black pair of heals and when they wore out I'd buy another pair.  This behavior was initially due to limited funds, but over time even I realized I prefer having just enough, even if I could afford more, and not more than I need.  Hence I'm looking forward to Saturday and the large garage sale I have planned.