A billion boxes

I think our possessions are multiplying while we sleep.

We are not people who keep very many things. Seriously. I used to be, but Nathan has a disorder (I'm sure it's a disorder) that gives him irresistible urges to throw things away... all the time. So we're not pack rats, hoarders, or people who like to have "stuff".

So why is it that every time I go to bed feeling I've just packed half the house into boxes, I wake up to a new reality: there are a billion boxes left to go.

I have a theory, but since it involves mischievous elves and nefarious plots I'll keep it to myself. There's no need to sound insane.