My wardrobe. There are clothes that hang around within its depths that that may well predate Noah, but certainly are old enough to have lost whatever distant connection to fashion they may have had.
I am about to be burdened again with the chore of buying new clothes (it’s a male thing).
Burdened by the looking.
Burdened by the choices.
Burdened by the cost.
Burdened by the realisation that I will spend more on clothes, than a person in the developing world may well earn in a year.
But once those burdens have past. As they quickly will. I will enjoy wearing new clothes, despite the fact that in years to come they will again be worthless.