I love the word “stuff.” It’s one of those words that just seems to do its job well and even sounds right. It communicates a kind of mass and bare existence but nothing of significance, purpose or value. A library has books, a living room has furniture and a laundry room has, well, laundry. But attics and garages? They have stuff. They are the places for incoherent jumbles of what is not needed now, may be used later, or is just too valuable to throw away but too worthless to keep in view. Every piece had purpose and value at […]

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