I find myself becoming more and more of a minimalist when it comes to keeping things which I no longer use. Toss them or give them to someone who can use them-- this is my current mantra. My husband, on the other hand, is absolutely sure that he will eventually find a use for the pan with a broken handle, the empty rice cannister, his old socks... you name it, he keeps it.
The end result is, our garage (and sometimes the house when I have not been vigilant) resembles the collection bin at the Goodwill store. Certainly I realize that he has as much right to his own personal "nesting style" as I do and yet it tests my patience and tolerance levels on a daily basis. Clearly there is a lesson to be learned here, I tell myself. Does it really matter how much extra stuff we have sitting around? Does it really matter that we still have decorative items from a restaurant we owned in 1986 or clothes in the attic that could be used in period films about the seventies? Why do these things bother me so much? They are, after all, just things. If I am weighed down, psychologically speaking, by these things am I not too easily weighed down? Breathe deeply, I tell myself. Smile, hug my husband, and appreciate things as they are. Cultivating patience is a virtue and in my house a survival technique!