Sweet Mary mother of Joseph I own a lot of crap. What’s worse is that I’ve been carting it around for so long that I no longer have the right brain connections to honestly evaluate whether I should throw it out or not. Every time I turn over a doodad in my hands I regretfully think, “But I brought this doodad out here FROM Madison six years ago. I owe it to the old guy to get him back there before I chuck him in the trash eight years from now.” No, quit that shit you sissy. Throw that doodad away and then light the box you found it in on fire. I gotta get all my possessions to fit in a 6’x12′ trailer (more or less) and right now the task looks quite daunting. For instance, the problem looks solvable until I realize that my kitchen contains hundreds of items concealed by cupboard doors. And when I think of the storage locker down the hall I start to shake uncontrollably. At this early juncture I’m pretty sure my best bet is to pile all my belongings in one big pile in my living room and then start throwing away shit until the pile measures somewhere in the neighborhood of 396 cubic feet.