Empty Nest Syndrome

I am not sure whether my love of minimalist living drives me to reside in a tiny room, or my love of quaint dwellings forces me to toss away all but a few scraps of my earthly possessions.  I do know however, that my purging of clutter is akin to the vomiting patterns of a bulimic super model at a buffet.  And when my beloved roommate Niko moved on to greener pastures, I stood in my doorway surveying a barren four walled wasteland, with a bed and a desk occupying but one lonely corner.  Clothes, books, memories, and the like could be fit into several boxes, or just as easily become snacks for a hungry dumpster.  A room swap was surely in order!

You a space to plop down a beanbag chair or sofa, but I see only a dark abyss.

My new window to the world!  It should also be notes that I have now occupied every room in the upstairs of Yellow House.

Or maybe I was just doing Irving the hoarder a favor.