So you know how I’ve been pretending, ignoring, acting like this moving away thing is no big deal? It’s a lie. It’s wearing me out.

Despite the garage sale and the big truck from Habitat for Humanity hauling away a bunch of furniture, and ten, twenty, more-than- I-can-actually-count trips to Goodwill to drop off car load after car load of perfectly good stuff that we just.don’t.need, there’s still way too much stuff in this house to pack and move to the new, smaller house.

Way too much stuff.

We have so much stuff we don’t need that it kind of makes me a little sick to my stomach and I fantasize about giving away everything and going off to live in a yurt where everyone has a blanket and a few things in a little hand-made wooden box under their cot.

Except we’re not so good at yurts, I would imagine. Mostly because my husband hates camping unless it involves a motor home, which we’ve don’t have, and have never even rented or borrowed so it’s still just a theory. And I’ve grown rather fond of hot showers and wireless internet access. And washers and dryers. And cute little grocery stores down the street that make dinner for you when you just can’t figure out what in the world to cook. Also I don’t really like fish, which we’d be forced to catch and clean and cook over an open fire, or in a motor home, if we were camping, presumably, and you know…I’d rather not.

So I’m skeptical about the yurt. A tee-pee is probably out of the question, too I bet. All that cooking over an open fire in the middle would probably make us cough. And the set up and take down alone would put me over the edge. Who needs to do a giant 3D puzzle before bed? Not me.

The thing is, we’re all into giving the stuff away now. Even the kids. We scoop up big armfuls of stuff and put it in white garbage bags for charity, and black garbage bags if it’s actual garbage, and then we drive it away and drop it off and don’t look back.

So we aren’t as attached to this stuff as you might think. We wouldn’t be very interesting on one of those hoarders shows. This stuff doesn’t define us. We don’t obsess about it, we just have it. I think it is laziness, more than anything. Stuff piles up after awhile, and I put it in a corner and two years later it’s in a box in the garage that needs to be sorted.

Sorting wears me out. I’d rather do fun stuff and move on to the next thing.

So I guess it’s me, not it. I can’t really blame the stuff for piling up, right? How can you be mad at a piece of paper or jeans that are 2 sizes to small?

So tonight I did a little Google search on stuff and I found Annie Leonard, the guru of The Story of Stuff. And she has good stuff to say about stuff, of course. She made a movie and wrote a book about stuff. “Our stuff owns us,” she says, “our quest for more stuff is taking a deeper toll on us…the things that make us happy are not the new flat screen TV, it’s having a sense of community and bigger purpose…”

Right, right, of course. I know that. It’s just all this stuff distracted me from getting rid of my stuff. I’m trying now. I’ll pretend I’ll stop getting stuff. Never again, I say.

And now, if I can just find that bigger purpose…I think it’s in the garage, in a box.