I hate stuff.
I don’t have claustrophobia, or agoraphobia, but I do get uneasy when I’m over deep water without SCUBA gear. I also get pretty unsettled when I have too much stuff to pack around.
We didn’t want for too much as children, our parents provided for us. We didn’t have the luxuries our friends have, but our envy wasn’t too significant. Aug 23, 1987, we had a housefire, most of the things I valued went away. The remainder of my needful things live in a plastic tote in Canada. I have a 4×8 locker in NYC, but there’s not too much I really need in there. I have two totes at a very good friend’s house, and that stuff would suck to lose.
In London, I have two suitcases, and a backpack, and an armoured suitcase for carrying crazy-expensive gear. Seriously, that case can hold $100k of gear. I also have a dead-ass Dell laptop, which is paired my its replacement that I have carefully left turned off lest it follow its stepbrother into the grave. A lot of Dell-extras in my baggage, I need so much stuff just to make it go.
I’m kinda at my limit. It’s nearly too much. I feel myself getting easily angry about “This Crap”, I find myself saying “I don’t even want this stuff” the same as I do when I pack up my house to move (and begin throwing away things I didn’t use the week previous, so mustn’t need).
I need to get a printer/scanner. I don’t want more stuff. Seriously, it’s too much to pack around already.
Too much stuff clustered around, I feel like a shark with a thousand pilot-fish globbed on and dragging me back.
Maybe I’ll torch the Dell. It’s not doing anything anyhow.