My cell phone has a folding lounge chair on which to sit on the top of my desk. The little chair has a wooden frame that folds and a striped canvas sling on which the phone can perch. The cell phone lounge chair is a promotional piece given as gifts by one division of the company where I work.

The cell phone folding lounge chair might be described as clever or cute or quirky. It might be described in those terms. But it should be described for what it truly is: ridiculous and a squander of resources.

How did we come to produce and possess all this stuff?

Last week I went to a condominium apartment to estimate its market value. The apartment is about 1200 square feet with two bedrooms, two baths and a big great room. In addition to the interior living space the unit has a balcony, a garage space and a storage locker.

A family of four lives in the unit. I met the wife and the two small children.

As I toured the apartment it became evident that these folks outgrew this space a long time ago. There was stuff everywhere, mostly toys and children's play equipment. All the stuff around dictated that the furniture was positioned in a scattered, awkward manner.

To put it kindly, the place was a mess.

The wife shared with me that she and her husband pay for storage lockers at a nearby facility. Those storage lockers house a lot of the kids toys and other possessions they can no longer fit in the apartment. She then shared the real reason for the sale of the apartment. It turns out that the couple are delinquent on their mortgage and that the apartment is no longer worth what they originally paid for it.

I had all this information before we got to the master bedroom. And it was there, beyond the king size bed and past the chaotic, overflowing closet, past lots of stuff, there it was - the Christmas corner. Towering over all the chaos of things and possessions were brightly wrapped boxes, dozens of them. Each box, one bigger than the next, was covered with festive paper and ribbon and frills and they balanced on each other like a jigsaw puzzle come to life.

Back in the great room the two little children watched some nameless DVD on some name brand big screen plasma TV.

It didn't feel a lot like Christmas.

The family was drowning in stuff, stuff for which there is no room and that they can't afford.

Recently, a family member of ours was burglarized. The burglars broke in through the kitchen door. From the look of things, they made their way throughout the entire house. But when an inventory was taken, there was just a laptop and some jewelry missing.

According to the police, used electronics are common and not worth much. Silverware is passe. It's gold that is in high demand. For the most part, it would seem the burglar's job has gotten tougher. There's too much stuff out there, and there's not much of a market for anything less than brand new.

Over the weekend I was in a conversation with several fellows and a young dad. "Everything my kids do costs money," the young dad said, and then he listed music lessons, and organized sports activities and on and on. Indeed, all the activities required equipment and instruction - stuff and money.

"Does anyone play kick the can anymore," asked one of us older ones?

A poll was taken and the answer was no.

As the economic recession becomes undeniable, perhaps a blessing in disguise will be revealed. Perhaps we can exchange the notion of possessing for the act of doing and in that way fill lives, instead of filling shelves.