Too much and not enough

The laptop's on the table. The bills, articles, magazines, fabric, blank cd's - all surround me, as in adoration, or perhaps anticipation. They seem to be waiting for their turn. "Read me. Pay me. Create with me." I will, perhaps. Maybe when I "have time." More likely it seems I will do it when the mood strikes me. That could be at midnight, when I can't sleep. Or at 6am, when Taffy's tiny bladder needs relief. The items wait, patiently but persistently. They do nothing by themselves.
I seem to be a collector. I battle with myself over this. I am genetically pre-disposed to "pack-rat-ism," as father is the man who has at least one of everything, provided he can find it. I want a neat, clean house, but I also want to have a button that matches, the right color shoe polish, interesting collections from every era and every place that fascinates me.
A friend recently told me about someone she worked with whose house caught on fire. Not all was lost, but there was plenty of damage. I think, what would that be like? I do not consider myself a material person; but to lose everything...? My beat up J. Crew shoes, my favorite sweater from the thrift store when I was in college, my pictures - baby, wedding, etc. How mcuh would be lost? My history. Me?
My past is dappled, no doubt, and sometimes I think it would be so much easier to erase the details - you know, clean slate and all. But that's what has brought me here, isn't it? All those experiences, mistakes, successes, failures, have made me who I am. And while there are plenty of times I'm not crazy about that chick, she's worked awfully hard to get where she is.
So I guess I won't set the house on fire tonight. I'll shift the "stuff" around when I need more table space. And I'll try to accept that it's all about balance, whether in my personal life or the piles that are nearly toppling onto the floor.