A Pack Rat's Lament

It seems an integral part
Of being human,
The need to keep,
And the need to store.

We pack away things,
Curios from our past,
Unable to distinguish
Treasure from the trash.

It is almost like
In some evolutionary quirk
We evolved from squirrels
Perpetually storing for winter.

We can convince ourselves so easily
That some day down the road
The oddity we’ve collected will have a use
And we’ll be glad we kept it!

The longer we stay,
The more we accumulate,
Pile after pile of antiquated things,
Things not used in everyday life.

Sometimes it is a broken piece,
Something too good to throw away
That we will repair
When someday comes.

Often it is clothing
That went out of fashion
A generation or two ago,
Or no longer fits.

In sorting through the mess,
We uncover projects
Intended, but never completed,
Started, but never finished.

Eventually we discover
That even if we suddenly
Had a use for an item,
We couldn’t find it if we tried.

Something can be said for moving,
Or the convenience of a fire,
Forcing us to clear the debris,
Or forcing us to sort it out.

Much of the stuff we accumulate,
We will eventually wonder why
We ever bought it in the first place,
What got in our heads.

Each time we move,
Or simply run out of storage,
We solemnly swear
Not to add another thing.

Yet no matter how solemn our vow
We continue to store
For the rainy day,
The day that never comes.