I also realize, I (hooray for me) am not a hoarder. Unclutterer checks out a Washington Post article by self-professed hoarder, Michael Rosenwald, and cheers him on for not being his stuff. I don't buy things like crazy and stuff them in crannies all over the house. I've even stopped going on my weekly Target runs. (Again, yay me.) But most of all, I am relieved to realize and announce to you that I am not my stuff. For if I were my stuff, what would it likely say about me?
For starters, it would say, "I'm broken." Or, "I'm stained beyond wearing." Or even, "I'm broken and stained." In a better case scenario it would say, "Hi, I'm Amy. I am a pristine LP of Nena's "99 Luftballons" (a gag gift from my husband) sitting atop a box marked "Wedding." In said box, I am a slog of unprinted negative sheets (dating myself) from my 2001 wedding. If I am my stuff, I am a sad sack of unfinished projects and silly-assed crap.
But, fortunately, I'm not my stuff.
Damn, I loved that song.