I hoard things. I’m not referring to the boxes of family photographs or legal papers or other things that should be kept. No, I’m thinking about the dozens of things that I have tucked away here and there that would mean nothing to anyone but, well, me.

For starters, I know I still have a bird’s feather I picked up during a hike in the woods nearly two years ago. I have a calendar from 2005 that I kept because I thought it was comical. And I’m pretty sure that, if I looked, I have a piece of string that was surgically removed from my cat’s stomach. Yeah, it’s bad.

 OK. While I’m sure you’re shaking your head right now, I know I’m not the only one who hangs on to absurd things. In fact, when I passed the antique shop pictured in this column, I found proof.

“Dead People’s Junk.” The sign says it all.

When you think about it, that’s what you’ll find in any antique store or flea market. Now, it’s up to the buyer to decide whether it’s junk or treasure. But I’m pretty sure I can die knowing a good bit of what I hold dear will be classified as the former. Unless of course friendship bracelets I made when I was 12 go up in value.