Look around my house, and you will find some weird stuff.
I can justify a few pieces of my collection. The small tribe of kachina dolls and the menagerie of wooden African animals, for instance, have their aesthetic merits. My interest in pharmacology has spawned a personal museum of mortars, pestles and old medicine bottles. But then I think about other things I cannot bring myself to throw out: old squash and tennis rackets, unread magazines from the last century, and piles of T-shirts on the verge of disintegration. I also hold on to old coffeemakers. I have to admit, that just seems a bit nutty.
This article was originally published with the title Love of Garbage.