I blame Star Wars for halting my annual cleaning spree. Confronted in the attic with boxes of 1980s-era toys, from Darth Vader figures to a Millennium Falcon spacecraft, I called my son to tell him I was going to throw them out. Stunned silence. He lives in a small New York City apartment, so he's not able to store the toys — but he couldn’t imagine tossing them either.
Funny, I don't recall that sweater being monogrammed. That's what I thought last fall when I unpacked a box of cold-weather clothing that I'd stowed away in the attic the previous spring. Sure enough, my favorite blue sweater wasn't monogrammed, though moths had done a pretty good job of carving out something that looked like my initials.
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