Boxes, boxes everywhere, and not a place to think

I have a love hate relationship with boxes. You already know that. On the one hand, they keep the clutter under some sort of control. On the other hand, they’re like Visa—everywhere I want to be—in my hallway, in front of my bookshelves, in front of my pantry, in front of my couch. Everywhere. It is apparent that I love boxes of all sorts.

And then there’s the part of me that wants them out of my life.

The main issue is of course, “Too much stuff.”

No small amount of stuff is just paper. Notes, bills, invoices, and paper statements are a big problem. I don’t know why companies insist on sending you something you can touch with your hands.

Just send me the pdf.

Or something.