I wonder why it’s so difficult to separate what
I want to save, what I have to pay and what I
must throw away.
It may seem strange to some, that no table,
shelf or chair is without some sort of jumble.
Do I dare use the last refuge, the sanctity
of the bathroom for all other?
What is a clutterbug to do, when the piles
keep growing? Look for more space?
Or stop watering the garden?
