I have been preparing our house for the market and in doing so, I have gotten rid of a lot of stuff! I am definitely the hoarder in our house. My husband could live out of two bags, use about five kitchen items each year, and doesn't gather anything for future use or hang on to much for sentimental value. (Which probably means the items he has hung on to mean a whole lot more!) I am always tucking something away here or stashing materials thereall in preparation for "some day." It's also part of the teacher in me. Do you know many teachers that don't have a ton of stuff or utilize every bit of storage available? But, over the last several years, I've been fairly good about going through things every six months and weeding out a little here and a little there. Today I'll be sharing six simple ways to declutter your home and why you should! GIVE THINGS AWAY It's nice to make money, but sometimes you come across something that you really think someone else could use and you don't want to throw it away. If it's the perfect fit for that person, they may adopt the item and add their own wear and tear! Anyone that's had children knows that kids go through things so fast and it's nice to save a little money by taking hand-me-downs from a friend or relative. If the receiver decides they don't want the item, let it be. They'll either get rid of it on their own or decline the offer. If they choose the latter, maybe the rest of this list will help. PACK If you know you don't want to purge an item from your house AND you know that you will use it in the future, but it's not an everyday use item, pack it up. We have several containers of things in our garage that are full of items we use once or twice each year. I have added close to 100 boxes of things to simply declutter our home while it's on the market. I took a look at everything and kept the essentials (well, maybe even more than the essentials), and packed up the rest. After the end of this story, the narrator is probably: - selling your junk - finding more stuff to box up - not enough information - not finding anything to give away
finding more stuff to box up

ROLAND NARROWED HIS EYES AND STARED UPWARD INTO THE DARKNESS, across the top of Mont Segur toward the Cathar fortress. Standing on a high walkway of planks behind the palisade of the crusaders' small wooden fort, he heard faraway voices and saw torches moving on the Cathar rampart. The two men on watch with him that night, a sergeant from Champagne and a young man-at-arms from Brittany, were talking in low tones about the women to be had far below, at the foot of the mountain. They seemed not to see the activity about the Cathar stronghold on the upper peak of the mountaintop opposite their own fort. But Roland, knowing Diane was in the besieged fortress, could not take his eyes from it. He knew he had to act soon. Each day the crusaders grew stronger and the Cathars weaker. Once the Cathar stronghold fell, the crusaders would slaughter all within, including Diane. The sergeant, chuckling, was offering his young companion a wineskin. The Breton never received it. From behind the Cathar wall came the sound of a huge thump, as if a giant's fist had pounded Mont Segur. Roland recognized the sound, and fought panic as he thrust his arms out, trying to push the other two men toward the ladder. But there was no time for them to climb down to safety. The thump was the counter-weight of a stone-caster, and the whistling noise that followed fast upon it was the rock it had thrown. A shape as big as a wine barrel blotted out the stars. The stone hit the parapet beside Roland, and the whole palisade shuddered. Roland caught a glimpse of the sergeant's horrified face and heard his scream as the boulder struck him, crushing him to the ground. When did Roland hear the whistling? - After the stone counter-weight thump - not enough information - After the Sergeant screamed - After the rock impacted the palisade
After the stone counter-weight thump

Rain, the young man is thinking. Of course it would be raining. Not a heavy, cleansing rain that leaves the streets steaming and the neatly sculptured yards lush and fragrant. This is a gray drizzling rain. A rain that makes him think of places like England and Scotland as they appear in those disturbing late night films on cable, the ones in black and white that weren't particularly memorable when they were made and are even less so now. Still, it rains and the air is cool. All he has to shelter him is a think nylon jacket. The jacket is soaked. It feels both chilly and coarse against his skin. His hair hangs in flat and sodden wings, falling into his eyes. It's long in the back, almost to his shoulders, and he thinks that the cars that pass him on the street, the occupants of those cars, might look at him and see only that he is wet and not that he is dirty as well. Can they tell that his hair has been unwashed for days? That his clothes are the same ones he's worn for more than a week? It doesn't matter. He's invisible to them as soon as they pass, taking any assumptions they might make with them. They might just mistake him for one of those hoity-toity college kids, one of those clean limbed and beaming have's who has happened to find himself caught out without his umbrella. He makes a desultory attempt to straighten his shoulders, to lift his eyes from the buckled sidewalk. To look like he might have a purpose or a destination. It doesn't help. He has become the day. He has internalized the environment. He did that years ago, in fact. That's all I can do. Not his words, of course, but he understands them. He is intimately acquainted with his limitations. The young man feels that: - He will graduate college - A car will run him over - He is just part of the environment - not enough information
He is just part of the environment