Maybe, just maybe, you like to save things: old newspapers or a black-and-white TV with rabbit ears or boxes of clothes or bundles of electrical wires and cords, spun together like spaghetti gone mad, and you can't bring yourself to throw it away, none of it -- why? -- because you could sell it, you might give it away, because it's so valuable; maybe you love to shop; you love to hunt for bargains or find gems at a yard sale, and it's a rush to find something special; maybe your closet is a mess or your attic or your basement; all that stuff piles up, like phrases in a jumbled, run-on sentence, compounding in a complicated swirl. And someday soon, you will weed through all your stuff and organize it, all of it, but not right now. Not yet..." More
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