Where Does it Come From?

Stuff is in my house. It is always showing up in piles and boxes and bags, causing me grief and prompting me to write in my blog since it such a constant. Stuff separates me from my family and the activities I enjoy and need the most. No one else seems to notice Stuff. I am told to ignore Stuff, like everyone else. I ignored the two fishing rods brought into the house in mid-June. I do not own them, nor did I bring them in, but they moved around from the kitchen to the red room to the living room and back to the kitchen until I asked about them today-- the end of August. It is my fault they are still in the house, because Stuff is My Problem-- no one else has to notice it and I was supposed to Ask Someone to take them out to the garage so they can sit in there for the next few years, since no one actually fishes. The Stuff in the garage and laundry room are all my responsibility as well, and the closets, cubby hole, bookcases, kitchen, refrigerator, studio, pantry, garden, porches and bedroom. I am tired and it is a lonely job, interviewing Stuff, to see if they are needed or wanted or useful. I would rather be doing something more interesting, but getting Stuff out of the house is necessary if we want to sit down, eat, sign papers, find anything or have something to wear. I'm not really sure what to do about it.