Balancing Moral Dilemmas on Top of Our Everyday STUFF
Interesting missive, that moral rules, dirty secret, thing. Got me thinking. I am one of those people with too much stuff. I’m also one of those people who would just as soon give money or time to kids on the other side of the world as pay my own bills, but that’s a different problem altogether. Let’s call it a problem with authority, and we’ll just visit that one some other time.
I’m on mission right now to rid my life of stuff. If you entered my house at this point, you’d laugh at how, thus far, I haven’t fared particularly well in this area. Stuff has sort of taken over. None of it is particularly expensive or luxurious stuff, just stuff. I have kids. They like stuff. ‘Nuff said.
In figuring out how to rid our lives of the extraneous junk and the stress it inevitably causes – particularly when it trips me up in the middle of the night causing swear words to wake my children – I’m faced with a choice. Sell it, trash it or donate it.
Trashing some of it is a favor to all involved – junk is a kind word to describe much of the effluvia of childhood. Small plastic things, 40 drawings of essentially the very same flower, more small plastic things, pieces of other things we’re sure we’ll find the rest of eventually, single socks (even a shoe or two) in a house full of bi-peds but surely-the-mates-are-here-somewhere-and-if-I-toss-this-one-I’ll-immediately-find-the-other; hey look, more …