They say that money can’t buy happiness, but that doesn’t keep me from trying.

So I went to college and graduated and got a job where they give me dollars and then I exchanged all those dollars for stuff and now I’m sitting in my house surrounded by piles of stuff with no dollars.

But when I roll out of bed and stumble across piles of stuff strewn around my house, I don’t feel happy. When I watch my boys smear peanut butter on everything I own, I don’t feel happy. When I move boxes and bins from the garage to the closet trying to figure out where to stash it all, I don’t feel happy.

I’ve read those minimalism blogs, about simple living and anti-consumerism and de-cluttering, and that doesn’t make me happy either. Because I don’t want to be a minimalist. I don’t want to get rid of my stuff. My stuff is supposed to make me happy.

[ continue reading @ A Deeper Story ]

[ image: Brett Davis ]