One thing I’ve learned is that every dwelling has an upper bound to the amount of stuff it can comfortably contain, a maximum carrying capacity if you will. Exceed that capacity and you will know it. It becomes hard to look around the room and see open space. You start tripping over crap on the floor. Your space seems to own you. When I was getting my undergraduate degree, I lived in a gorgeous 1920’s studio apartment with all its original mahogany trim. That 425sqft studio apartment had a sharp, well defined upper bound to its carrying capacity, a capacity whose limit I always rode. To this day I can close my eyes and take a mental inventory of everything I owned back then. In it was a double bed, couch, bookshelf, dining table, coffee table, large plant, CRT TV with cactus on top, a large desk for work, a microwave on top of the refrigerator, and a cat. Hanging on the wall was two speakers, two very nice paintings, as well as a couple cool trinkets delicately placed into a nook that used to contain an old phone. You would think that all that stuff would make the space feel cramped, but you’d be wrong–my little studio apartment felt quite cozy and inviting. ...