This is, in part, exactly why I have been almost obsessive about throwing out stuff. I dread that someday someone will be inflicted with the task of compulsorily oooing and ahhing what is ultimately just the detritus of all life. As Joseph Campbell said, we're all just soap bubbles floating through time. It seems to me that soap bubbles travel best when they travel light. I've worked hard at it, but my attic is now empty, my garage is empty, some drawers are empty, the closets have room in them and I still feel like I'm not done. I have a bookcase lightly filled with can't-part-withs, but in the end, it's all junk no matter what it is. Unless things or people are all but mythologized, eventually everything and everyone is forgotten. Having said that, has all this made me happier? No, but it does make the place a lot easier to clean and I don't have to search for things usually. There's comfort in being tied to one's past through material things, and that means a lot, but it trades off for the serenity of living in the present, at least materially. Another of God's little jokes, he turned life into a big tradeoff, but it seems overflowing landfills speak as to which side he favored. Still, it's all just commentary... Julie Krueger <juliereneb@xxxxxxxxx> wrote: Having come upon my Great Grandmother's text for her 1927 course in cosmetology, I believe that I have learned the origin of the electric chair. ... --------------------------------- You rock. That's why Blockbuster's offering you one month of Blockbuster Total Access, No Cost.