So long, Stuff.

I think I've said it before, but I'm quick to toss Stuff.  He and I are not friends.  I don't become attached to things that people give or create for me.  Instead of sweet sentimental gems, I see it as clutter.

I loathe clutter.

Seeing stacks of my girls' school papers on the table when I come home from work ignites in me a mini panic attack.  To avoid hurting their feelings, however, I'll hang their artwork or "A" tests and what have you on the refrigerator for a suitable time.  Then, when they aren't looking, I'll deposit their "treasures" in the recycling bin.  I'm a terrible mom.

Because I hate Stuff, I've never really wondered about my old childhood things.  Certificates of awards, softball trophies, drama club t-shirts...I haven't seen them in nearly 20 years.  Most likely, my parents tossed them at some point, but it honestly doesn't bother me.  I would probably have tossed them myself if I had them.  The only thing I truly hold dear from my younger years is my quilt which I wrote about here .

For me, it's not about Stuff; it's about memories.  Stuff comes and goes (quite quickly in my home), but the memories that I have from my academic honors, softball glory days, and drama performances will far outlast a piece of paper, an old trophy, or a ratty t-shirt.