This is hard coded in my DNA and I wonder sometimes if it's a curse. I can't throw anything away because despite how it looks to everyone else, I see what it could be, and that makes it valuable. So into the collection it goes, with all the other "valuables." Now I need a bigger shop because I can't take a step in any direction without tripping over treasures whose destiny remains unfulfilled. I see other people's shops, so clean, so orderly, and I feel conflicted; equal parts jealous and critical. I would like to have a workspace that is navigable but then what would I make stuff out of? What do the "clean freaks" do? Go to the steel supply house every time they want to make something? On occasion I become so encumbered by my own packrattery that I go on a purge binge, making the hard decisions about everything in arms' reach; "what is the likelihood that I will ever get around to the project I originally envisioned this being used for?" If I can't convince myself I will use it before I turn 100, I begrudgingly toss it. And without fail, each time I do this, I end up needing one or more of the things I tossed, mere days after tossing them. It is a cruel joke and I hope that whatever cosmic force that perpetuates it is entertained.
