Okay. Okay. It's so true. I really must clean out my house. I mean, pare down, scale back. Simplify. I absolutely must do it. Soon.

Simplify. Sounds so good. Uncluttered. Ahhhhh. What a lovely notion.

Too much stuff. Way too much stuff. But how in the heck do you do it? I have so much good stuff!

It starts out so innocently.

You go to a few yard sales. Graduate to estate sales. Okay, some antique malls. Yes, and then those biannual huge sales....

And then, before you know it...... Well, I mean, right after your husband knows it.......

The house is full. The closets are full. The drawers, cabinets, hutches, armoires, computer cabinets, chiffarobes.....full. The garage? Full. Oh, that space behind the garage? Yes, full. The kids' rooms? Well, what were the kids' rooms, when they still lived here....full. The workshop is full. The pantry is full. The breezeway and the closet on the breezeway are full. The gameroom....oh really. You don't want me to go on.

You get the picture. Full, full, full.

Such lovely collections. Or beginning of collections, in some cases. Wonderful things. Beautiful things. Crusty rusty things.

Things with great potential. Things that are really old. Things that are new but look old. Things with patina-both real and the fake kind.

What's a collector/junker/antique lover/embarrassed shopping addict to do?

It really is time to clean out.

The hubby has wanted this for a long time. Well, since we got married and his 1960ish Volkswagon bug-load of belongings got multiplied by, oh, 40 or so in the first year of marriage. Poor dear. He really didn't know what was coming.

But here it is. 33 sweet years later. 33 years of going to college, studying, homemaking, cooking, childrearing, homeschooling, homebirthing, sewing, quilting, crocheting, knitting, gardening, reading, going to soccer games and baseball games and football games and swim meets and school functions and birhday parties, and ballet lessons and tap and jazz lessons and dance recitals, and school plays, and piano, guitar, clarinet, and flute lessons, and all those things require stuff. And then there are the forays into scrapbooking and mosaicing and aerobic dance classes and then sometimes you just have to get out of the house, right? So there are trips to Target and Wal-Mart and garage sales and quilt stores and, oh, you know.

So then there is stuff.

Then there is inherited stuff. And there is stuff given to you. Gifts. Sweet thoughtful tokens from loving family members and dear friends.

And then there are the things the children made. Just for you. The collages and poster/greeting cards with their pictures swiped from your photo album and glued on and their scribbly handwriting. And the little ditties handsewn especially for you with giant stitches and bad fabric. Those funny wood projects made at summer camp. And the wood napkin holders from Bible camp, with Bible verses written on the wood in crayon.

Now I'm going to make myself cry.

But that wasn't the point of this post. That is for another post.

The point was stuff. Is stuff. Clearing it out. Getting rid of it and NOT replacing it.

Paring down collections to just the favorite pieces. Or the favorite collections.

Because, really, I cannot blame the kids nor the hub for the overflowing closets. It's mine. Yes, yes, there are some of their things. Okay, like, 2 rooms full. And there is a bookshelf full of children's books and a shelf full of games. You know. A trunk of baby clothes. But, one trunk. The rest of the stuff is mine. My stuff. My problem. My dilemma.

I've just become quite the collector. Love those estate sales. Love globes, yardsticks, rulers, old cameras. Vintage linens. Quilts, lamps, dishes. Oh, the dishes. Plates out the wazoo.

It's ridiculous, really. I mean, how many plates does one household need?

Clearly, I've got to do something. But how? Where to begin? I think I need to buy another house and just move the best stuff to it and sell the rest.

Somehow I don't think that is an option.

help?!!!