I've been going through stuff, doing the spring cleaning that never happened because spring just arrived in Michigan (a nice day, three days of rain, a nice day, etc.). It brings to mind George Carlin, one of my favorite wordologists ever. He claimed that my stuff was "stuff" but your stuff is "shit," as in "Get your shit out of the way so I can put my stuff down." So true.
What other people consider keep-worthy is a mystery. We've all had the experience of spouse or roomie throwing away something we wanted and can't believe they didn't see the value of. And if you've ever had to clean out the home of a deceased elderly relative...well there's a lot of, um, stuff.
When I write, I like to imagine what "stuff" a character would consider essential. Lee Child's Jack Reacher keeps almost nothing, throwing away his clothes every few days and buying new or even used to replace them. An elderly character in one of my books has had to downsize several times as he moved from house to house to apartment and therefore has an odd assortment of stuff packed into a small space, unnecessary but somehow essential to him. Imagining what a certain female character might carry in her purse (or would she not carry a purse, like Kinsey?) reveals details that make the person real. My purse, for example, still reflects my teacher days, when I was expected to have one of everything, from Band-aids to cough drops to a list of world capitals. I really need to reconsider that stuff.
I often promise myself I won't leave a lot of stuff behind for my relatives to sort through when I die, but then again I may. It's all such good stuff.
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