"Stuff"

It's a pretty broad term, but I like the word 'Stuff'. It encompasses a load of interesting ideas.

Good Stuff.
The Stuff dreams are made of.
Stuff your face (preferably with a Stuffed crust pizza).
Stuff off.
Get Stuffed.

But the 'Stuff' that's on my mind at the moment is 'My Stuff'.

We're planning to move home in the next month or two, so we've decided to be pro-active and start packing early. And that means climbing up into the dusty, creepy loft and digging out all the old boxes and suitcases which have been tossed up there in the last couple of years, to start going through 'My Stuff'. Vast amounts of it.
It shocks me every time I poke my head into the loft to see just how much 'Stuff' I've managed to accumulate in just a few short years. I think I may be a hoarder.

I'd like to think that some of it is quite important Stuff, but the sad truth is that the huge majority is just sentimental old crap that I can't bring myself to throw away.
Old birthday cards (even the occasional rare Valentine's Day card), letters from old school friends, drawings, souvenirs, trophies and medals (mostly home made), and loads of awful photographs.
And a great set of stress balls in the shape of boobies. With nipples and everything.

But I've promised myself that this time I'll be brutal, so it's got to be a case of out with the old and in with the new. All the old tat has sadly got to go...

Even the squeezy boobies. :(