Do you own stuff, or does it own you?

Of late this stage of the year has had a depressing effect: it's the anticipation of short days and grey skies. There is one consolation, namely the end of the season of car boot sales. Don't misunderstand me - I like them, both in concept and especially in their British execution (so much more pragmatic than the French 'vide grenier'). The problem is that my French wife is utterly - I mean utterly - addicted to them, with the result that our once spacious house is filling up with 'stuff'. 
I detest clutter - everything must be in its place and there should be plenty of empty space around it - and I can't keep up with her acquisitiveness. Now I have the dark half of the year to organise things, to arrange some in the garage, ideally to recycle them or even store them for sale at the first car boot next Spring. These days I want to own less and less (other than books) because I've realised that, in the end, you are owned by your belongings.