My grandmother saves everything. She’s got a drawer full of zip lock bags that have been used for one thing or another, then washed and dried and put back to be used again. As environmentally friendly as I like to think I am, I want my crackers or sandwich in a new unstained baggy (without water spots). She lived through the depression so I appreciate and admire her for being a recycler before it was trendy.

Dawn doesn’t like to throw out anything either. I estimate that we paid about $400 to move several boxes of crap (i.e., items that no one will ever want including us) about 2000 miles to litter our basement and garage. In order to get rid of this stuff I have to do it covertly: slowly over time shoving one in the trash can or tossing it to Goodwill if appropriate. I get caught now and then and have to close down my crap fighting operations for awhile to prevent suspicion.

This morning I was caught not in the act of throwing something away, but thinking about throwing something away. We have a pile of t-shirts down in the basement that are neither in the “to be used as cleaning rags” bin or the “to be used out in the garden or painting” bin. While Dawn and I were down sorting laundry I glanced at those t-shirts and Dawn moves closer and says to me: “those are never to be worn, never to be thrown out.”