oh, bother

there's so much stuff in this house, books, papers, furniture, clothes, that i only begin to contemplate how i would get out with what's mine. i give up there and don't dare imagine. i used to read my children a story about a snail who grew his shell so big that he couldn't move. his friends and family all moved on, following food, but he was trapped with his enormous, opulent home. so he starved to death and his shell eventually decayed. the moral was live simply, but it's kind of a gruesome tale and doesn't really translate into real world. in the real world, the bigger the better, the more the merrier, he who has the most toys wins, etc. still, there's a lot of shit in this house and i wonder how i'm going to get out or if it's even worth the bother.