Home for the Holidays... or how to beat the too small a house, too much shit blues

Compared to 87.4% of the world (yeah, I made that up) I have no reason to complain. In fact, I probably have it pretty good in most people's eyes. I'm healthy, gainfully employed, have a great family, lots of friends, etc. I don't take any of it for granted, believe me, having skated on the fringes of not-so-great in areas of my life - my oldest son's asthma attacks, the financial woes of owning a not-quite-successful enough business. 

So why does one aspect of my life have the power to drive me absolutely nuts? I don't know... but I do know that if we try to cram anymore toys, gadgets, paper or other type of clutter into the 1,100 sq. ft. shared by four humans, a large dog and a cat I'm going to have the largest (illegal) bonfire ever in the city of South Bend, IN.

I know I'm not the only person who's faced this insanity. My sister, friends and other moms gripe about the same thing. We spend hours combing through reams of paper sent to our homes; we purge our closets and drawers of old clothing at least two or three times a year. We plead with well-meaning relatives not to purchase our children toys they don't need. We send garbage bags of barely used toys to Goodwill regularly.

You know what I think? I think this stuff breeds at night, when the lights are out and the doors are closed. The GI Joes are reproducing asexually. Legos? I know they multiply geometrically. Toy cars? I think they congregate like NASCAR fans in the infield and go out it.

I wish I had an answer to the madness... well, other than the bonfire. Let me know if you do.