I had been a doll collector, these are the last of the hundreds that I had, these are the china hutch dolls that I keep because they are, well...collectible and were more pricey and I do love them.
I still have others here and there but these are the ones that stay in the hutch away from sunlight , and children who may come thinking that they might love them too hard.
Getting things whittled down is a constant culling /sorting/ "does this bring me joy?" activity.
Stuff can become the boss so easily...my neighbor has not been out of her house since December , Nearly eight months- and she, a lover of sunshine in the summer, has been holed up-her husband became ill with respiratory problems , had to go to hospital for about a week, moved in with his son and grandson after his hospital stay - has not been back...there is only bad air in the house, mold, mildew, dust...
Wife has become a hoarder- the kids did not realize how out of control it had become. They are trying to deal but a hoarder is difficult to work with at best as you have probably seen from that terrible Television show!
So, I have been instructed to not take the Sunday paper to her every Sunday after we have read it, as I have done for thirty years...she has kept every paper I have ever sent over, stacked to the ceiling, dry on the top of the pile, wet from the floor up.
The house is collapsing under the weight of "bargains", of detritus left by three children and four grandchildren, of every little find that wanted to be treasured. The weight of mental illness.
I know that I do not really NEED more paints, I am a hoarder of paints...BUT look at this set! IT is astonishing, and the hues are just as vibrant used with water, as they appear in the box! A little goes a long way, I will be taking this set with me, a couple of brushes, four favorite pencils and that will be all I need, probably... maybe....no promises....I am a liar.... Art shops and book stores are danger areas for me, I would rather buy a tube of paint than dinner! I have been known to spend my last bit of stipend on poetry or art books.
while clearing out the china hutch, My Obama sticker fell out, I nearly cried...
God, I love this man.
The low level depression , anxiety, frustration, outrage, fear that fills every breathing space since the Orange Turd shat in the white house could also be a large part of the reason my dear neighbor can not face the day. She is terrified- an immigrant, worried about her family. wondering if she will ever get to go back to her motherland to see siblings and folks before they are all gone. So much can contribute to a mental breakdown, the Orange Turd has been , for many, the final straw, and camel 's back is well and truly broken.