Too much (useless to me) stuff.

[mrlynn]

I'm beginning to dread Labor Day weekend, as all the kids will be here, and adding a nagging chorus to my wife's solo wheedling about cleaning out my office, and the basement, and the attic, and the misnamed Guest Room (the guests are piles of cartons of my and family memorabilia). I know, I know, I protest. First I've got to go through the files, to make room. . .

I'm an inveterate pack rat, the sort who would take apart a non-functioning electric heater and save the components in tins. You never know when something might come in handy. It's quite gratifying when something does—much to the dismay of the wife, who rolls her eyes to the ceiling and trills, "Reinforcement!"

/Mr Lynn