Someone Might Use This

I have escaped to my frog prince room to get away from my everyday messes. I promised myself I would not do this again, reminding myself, "less is more." But self did not listen. We dragged home everything and anything someone might use. Someone might use has never come to play or to visit. Someone might use has never taken anything home. Someone might use does not exist except in my shop-a-holic mind. Someone might use needs to be obliterated from my dendrite pool. Someone might use needs to be annihilated and cremated. Someone might use needs to walk the plank, in front of ferociously angry pirates. At the very least, someone might use needs to be eliminated from my vocabulary. And the way this stuff is piling up, the sooner the better. Is this the result of being raised by two children who lived during a depression? Maybe, but my mother could locate anything and everything, quickly, for someone who might use. I cannot find it even when I search and search. I am a grown up now, anyway. I have no one to blame but myself for all of these things that "someone might use", but never does. As I discard truckload after truckload of stuff that I dragged home, for the notorious "someone who might use", I hope that I have learned my lesson. But I doubt it.