h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I'm on a new tack now. I am reluctant to pack too many things, since I may need some of them over the next six days, so instead I am clearing out the things I no longer need or use.

Of course there is the junk that just collects during life: the half-read magazines, the catalogues that had something that caught my eye, the worn-out clothing that is still good enough for a blue day. This is garbage and it goes easily. But there are other things too. More than catch my eye, they spoke to me, they contained value, knowledge, pleasure, or utility. They still do, but life has forgotten them, and I have not used them for years. Taken out of their hiding spots, they speak to me again. They remind me of their value, of how much I needed them before and how I may need them again. Books are among these. Which of my books will I ever read again? Very few, but the moment I attempt to throw one away, the answer becomes "this one, now." Here are my teenage journals, written for no one and never to be read again. Here are photographs of people whose names I have long forgotten. These are the permanent detritus of my life.

Between the two is my accumulated loss, a collection of things that do not fully belong to one group or the other. I've kept them because they seem important to me, and I lose them now because they have proven useless. Here are floppy disks with unknown content, old but functioning electronics, small toys from my childhood. I can only throw these out without looking. I have started not looking.

I'm doing the same. Every time I move there are things I pack because they are more than just objects. They carry memories of people and places. Some are theatre programmes, newspaper cuttings, and flyers from exhibitions, others are books with messages under the dust cover. There are so many different objects. All are part of me.
Don't throw too much out.

Too late. I'm being ruthless this time around. The things with real sentimental value are safe, but I've already discarded loads of things that I brought with me the last few times I've moved. Some of these are things I was *sure* I would need again some day, but it turns out I didn't touch them for a decade or more, and in some cases didn't even know I still had. All in all, I think it is a good thing I'm doing, but I still have a nagging suspicion that I might change my mind with time.