I try not to collect things anymore. There is a fine line between being a collector and being a psycho packrat, and living in a shoebox as I do, I don't have the luxury of dancing on said line. When my grandmother died, she left three whole households worth of crap that had to be sorted through and sold--some of it was lovely, much of it was...well, not in the lovely category, let's leave it at that. With this sterling example before me, I therefore attempt to keep my naturally acquisitive tendencies into certain boundaries--practical ceramics are okay (I consider matched dinnerware a sign of lack of imagination) the occasional random statuary only if it Really Really speaks to me (Being a fan of many things, including foo dogs, frogs, fish, and random deities, I'm really trying to curb myself there. I don't need more Stuff.) and wall art, although I've hit the upper limit there and no longer have a square inch of available wall space. This is not due to my purchasing tendencies, but the fact that my parents send me a copy of all of their prints, which means I have hundreds of the things jammed in my closet, and maybe a dozen out on the walls.
I'm starting to hope we do wind up moving to Arizona. I could really use the wall space.