A semblance of order, if one chooses to perceive it, is in the mashed pile of things to dump.
I see it, in this pyre of merely things: I see how it broadens from the idea to simplify, to focus, to say to ourselves, what is it about life that we like- let's do more of that, let's clear the space for it.
The cupboard under the stairs can breathe. It exhales relief.
Later, when I've loaded the car ready for the journey to the tip, the floor of our living room will stretch out, unburdened.
The house, commonly a symbol of the self, becomes easier to live with.