The first sign that the pandemic isolation was getting to me happened in early April. I sat alone in our dimly lit living room, the TV playing a never ending playlist of something on YouTube that I had stopped paying attention to hours ago. Instead, I laid on the couch, my screen hovering over my face and revealing the unending doom and gloom that comes from countless people all trying to find an escape from the confines of their pandemic prisons. For many that doom-scrolling came in the form of sharing the countless stories about the crashing economy, whether masks were an effective coronavirus deterrent (they are), and whether or not Tom Hanks would escape Australia. For me, it?s when I started paying close attention to my sponsored Facebook ads for dumb products. My distraction, as it turned out, was retail-based. I just started buying?. stuff. Anything. And as George Carlin once famously quipped about home, ?This is just a place for my stuff, ya know" That?s all; a little place for my stuff. That?s all I want, that?s all you need in life, is a little place for your stuff, ya know" I can see it on your table, everybody?s got a little place for their stuff. This is my stuff, that?s your stuff, that?ll be his stuff over there. That?s all you need in life, a little place for your stuff. That?s all your house is- a place to keep your stuff.?

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