When does ‘stuff’ become ‘rubbish’? I have a terrible problem with hoarding. I find it hard to part with things that conjure up memories of happy times or old friends. I even find it hard to part with stuff that has bad associations. It’s as though I’m afraid I would cease to exist without the evidence.
Most people seem to find it easier to chuck things away than I do. They have a lower threshold of rubbish tollerance. But when does something become rubbish? The picture your child brings home from school isn’t immediately consigned to the bin. When does it go? And your birthday cards? How long on display? And all those odd socks – how long to keep them, hoping for the reappearance of the pair?
I would love to live a decluttered life. But clutter repesents family history. Where should I draw the line?
