Stuff: Imposters of joy I let into my home without a single, conscious thought. How did it come to this? Since when did life revolve around accumulating stuff (not even sexy, exciting stuff), followed by picking up said stuff?

Stuff: Imposters of joy I let into my home without a single, conscious thought. How did it come to this? Since when did life revolve around accumulating stuff (not even sexy, exciting stuff), followed by picking up said stuff?