There’s a lot of schlepping going on. Every January we shuffle stuff. Get rid of stuff. Why do we have so much stuff?

This round I got sick of all the extra trinkets in my office. Too much distraction. I got minimizing, with the goal of stashing and stuffing hiding things away like a squirrel. There was some tossing too. Clothes from the last century are on the way to the resale shop. The old Bananarama t-shirt can never make me feel young again, especially how it exposes my love- handles. Uh. Ew.

Some call it downsizing. My mother-in-law is a pro at this. I have proof. She is evident in our kitchen drawers, our hall closet, and hanging on walls. This thing we do is more like creating space. My wife and I are into ‘hygge’, pronounced ‘hyoo-gah. You might have heard of it. No, not Hookah. Hygge means to embody a mood of coziness and comfort.

Coziness shouldn’t be a life goal. Comfort isn’t a pinnacle of life achievement either. Yet in the home the effect should be homey. We want anyone who crosses our threshold, including ourselves, to breathe easy and sit a spell without stress. Barbara constantly aspires (It’s a process of life long effort) to this standard, and much of it has to do with a less-not-more attitude.

This go round I’m pitching in and pitching out. I sent my little red toy truck to the grandkid bin. A few army men are on guard, not a full platoon. My office furniture is getting a fresh coat of paint. There is a candle in a miniature camping mug on the ready to welcome the Muse during creative blocks of time. I want her to feel welcome too.

Barbara shook her head, bewildered, “Who are you? Who gave you permission to use the word hygge?” (Did you have to go back for its pronunciation?)