Sometimes I want to just sell everything I own and live a very simple life, eating lots of whole grains and helping children in Malawi or something.
I hate this feeling that THINGS have over me, like a gargantuan gelatinous cube that weighs me down.
When Shelly chucks Charlie out of their flat he leaves carrying nothing but a duffel bag.
Most of Carrie's possesions fit in a carry on bag, it would seem.
We have too much stuff - we, being American society in general.
TOO MUCH DAMN STUFF.
Oh, and I have to spend probably $400 to get my bloody car fixed tomorrow.
