This mess is a place

Stuff is not my friend. I cannot embrace the mess. I'm dreaming of a tiny shack in the middle of nowhere with a dirt floor (that way who cares?) and no knick knacky things and one piece of clothing each and meals delivered to the door every meal and no such thing as burned cd's or sentimental value and a cat that can feed itself and no junk mail and a to do list that gets shorter ...or maybe just a vacation. I don't even care if all that makes sense, its my dream not yours anyway. :)