Parting with stuff you don't need

Do you realize just how much crap you have stored away that you have no use for, yet can't seem to part company with?

When I was growing up, we used to laugh at how my dad's mother couldn't throw ANYTHING away. Soup labels, coffee cans, ice cream pails, the plastic Easter eggs we used to hunt every spring on the family farm -- if she determined it had some kind of value, she was hanging on to it and was not about to throw it away.

The stairway to the second floor of their house had always been the place where these things were stored. For as long as I could remember, we'd always have to maneuver around piles of newspaper clippings, plastic buckets and about anything else you could think of, all in an effort to get to the upstairs bedroom.

It seems we are a nation of packrats. I'm sure that you could walk in anybody's house and find a room where there is nothing but unopened boxes full of stuff that had been packed away with the idea that the individuals involved would get around to sorting out, but have long since forgotten.

As it turns out, this annoying trait is one that is passed down through the generations. My dad's house and shop and my mom's house are fast becoming glorified storage units for anything and everything you can possibly think of. Old kids clothes, stereo equipment, rarely-used exercise equipment, knick-knacks of all shapes and sizes . . . if a fire started in either of their houses, it would burn for a solid week.

My sister has a room just like this in the basement of her house. She and her husband have more boxes of stuff in there than you can count, and I'm sure if they spent a weekend going through those boxes they would discover a bunch of stuff that they have no use for, but can't seem to find it in their hearts to part company with.

And now that trait has been passed on to me, as I've found during the last few weeks that I'm in possession of a lot of stuff that I had completely forgotten about.

I made this discovery in beginning the efforts to move to another city. I was looking for some old computer discs to transfer files to my computer when I happened upon a big box full of old bank statements, paid bills and other paperwork.

We're not talking a file folder full of paper here, folks -- When piled on the floor, the pile reached up well past my lower desk drawer. The paper shredder I recently bought to take care of a box of paperwork I had discovered earlier is getting one whale of a workout these last few days. I've filled at least three garbage bags full of shredded paper in the last month, and the pile of paper remaining is going to be good for at least that many more.

I feed it in between hands while playing poker online, feed it some more while I'm eating dinner and give it another good feeding before I go to bed at night. If paper was high in cholesterol, this shredder would have had a massive heart attack several times over by now. With over 20 years worth of paperwork to chew up, it wouldn't surprise me if this shredder keels over from exhaustion -- it's already overheated more times than I care to count.

The good thing in all of this is that it has inspired me to dig deep into my closets and into the boxes of stuff I have stored at my dad's shop. With a move coming in the next few weeks, I have enough time to go through all of this stuff, determine what is of REAL personal or financial value to me and either repackage it for the move, send it to the trash or sell it on Ebay.

My goal is to actually have fewer boxes to load for this move than I did for the last one. If I can get that accomplished, I'm sure there will be more room left in the U-Haul for the REALLY important stuff.

Now what box did I put the remote control to the TV in? I know it's here somwhere . . .