THE WAR OVER STUFF

We are a funny couple, my hubby and me. You tell me I have to go from a huge walk-in closet, down to one that's a mere five feet wide and two feet deep, and I'm all, like, "Woohoo! At last I have a legitimate excuse for getting rid of all the stuff I don't really love and never use!" Tell hubby the same thing, and you might as well ask him to give up an arm or a child. Not only did I succeed in paring down my closet contents, I even ended up with enough space for folding chairs, canning jars, coolers, ice cream maker and ironing supplies, and boxes of old slide projector stuff! Hubby's stuff, on the other hand, does not seem to have shrunk much at all in the time since we bought this place. In fact, it seems to have expanded to fill all the empty spaces I left at the townhouse, three storage rooms, and two garages.

Provided things continue to go well with the kids, and if the economy doesn't take anymore nose dives, John's seriously considering letting the townhouse go by late summer, or early fall. Though he's anxious to be here in Wimberley full-time, I'm sure the idea of sorting through all his stuff is raising his blood-pressure and keeping him awake at night. Problem is, I have no idea how to help him, short of saying, "Here, take my closet too. And what about this little corner of our bedroom that I use for my desk and bookshelves? It's yours, if that will help!" My pointing out items that he hasn't used in years is never well-received, and might even cause this normally easy-going guy to snap or growl. So, what to do? Pray, my friends. Pray!