The Furlong house is a mess – if I died, if WE died, our kids would have to wade through piles of old junk, old clothes, old furniture, old papers.
A few years ago, I got all my stuff neatly sorted. But, my, how it all grows back. We are surrounded by an abundance, Mr Furlong and I, an abundance of what our kids will find to be junk, when they have to clear up our house…
I really need to sort it out again.
If we live to be a hundred, I’m going to get really sick of sorting out our junk.