The Good Life

I bought and finally started reading Ruth Soukup's Living Well Spending Less and from the first page I was pulled in and hooked. Each time she described herself, she described me. I am not foolish enough to think I'm the only one out there that shops to feel better and although when you say shopaholic no one really takes the term quite as seriously as say, alcoholic, I assure you it is serious and not at all "cute and quirky". 

In this first chapter she talks about how even as a young girl she used to imagine her "perfect home" where she would finally feel full and happy and satisfied; searching in owning things for that happiness and fulfillment she never felt. 

I'm there, however, I didn't start as a child. In fact, I don't think any of it started until I got married. Until that point my time was spent outside of the house and I didn't think about my "stuff" besides taking care of what I had. Now, I'm addicted to finding that treasure, bringing it home and making it new. I see beauty in everything and try my best to bring it out so that others appreciate it as well. 

The problem in all of this is I have slowly but surely been filling in every spare space available. And not even noticing that I'm doing it until there's no room to move.