Moving Out

Just coming up for a swallow of air, and then back under the heap of all American habitation. Everything must go by Sunday morning, and yet it seems that the more we take out, the more appears. How has it happened that all this stuff has ended up in my house--enough stuff as it seems to fill five houses? How have I lived in this house for three years without noticing half this stuff I am now carrying out, load after load. How in fact have I managed to live in the house without constantly tripping over all the things I am now removing from bedrooms and hallways and laundry rooms and dens? It is curious, astounding, and most of all heavy.