It's everywhere you look.

Stuff! From garage sales, to trunk sales and flea markets, to dumpsters, to folks riffling through your trash to find something of value ... and if they're lucky, something with your social security number on it. Stuff is everywhere.

Don't get me wrong. I love stuff. By most measures I have too much of it. When Nancy and I were first married the only reason she could drag me to garage sales was the fact that I wanted to be with her all of the time. But standing there, looking at other people's stuff that, by the pure fact of it lying there on a dew-soaked blanket in someone's front yard showed that it was stuff they didn't want anymore, just wasn't my idea of a fun way to spend a Saturday morning.

In the interest of full disclosure, there were times when Nancy …