Seriously. Over the past year I've have taken countless *trunkloads* to the thrift. And I am not, for the most part, replacing it with more stuff.
I'm really quite bummed about this. My house looking like a trash hole makes me feel like crap. I love to visit people whose homes look spartan yet inviting, IYKWIM. I want my home to be like that. Currently, it pretty much looks like this:
I hate it. I want to love it. I want my home to be a haven. I feel like I go through stuff and go through stuff and there's still STUFF. And you know what? I don't give a crap what flylady says, *I* am lazy. Yep. I am. I look at this hole and I can't take it. I plop down in front of the computer.
The mess is robbing me of the things I want for myself, for my family. I don't sew nearly as much as I'd like to because there's no place to spread out and cut, no place to trace patterns, can't find the scissors, can't find the ______, etc, etc.
I don't want to set this kind of example for my kids. I don't.