In this curmudgeon's life, space is indeed the final frontier. Storage space, that is. Even more specifically, the storage space my Sainted wife needs for all the "stuff" she insists on accumulating.
"Just put it in the basement" she will aver. "The basement is full" I counter. "OK, over the garage" she will then suggest. Sadly, that, too, is at capacity. All her china cabinets are full to bursting as are her closets. Is this some sort of insidious sickness?
In desperation I talk to other curmudgeons in the Curmudgeon Societé Generale. They are no help...mostly because THEY suffer from the same malady. Alas, at our age, and after a lifetime of following Chapter 22 in the Curmudgeon Handbook (Trash is the Last Resort), we all have too much "stuff".
Delbert McClinton got it right in his great song "Too Much Stuff".
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