When my mother was born in 1939, her family were stateless White Russians living in Shanghai, China. In 1947, they fled the advancing forces of Mao Tse-Tung and ended up in Panama. That early upheaval shaped her life in many ways—including, I believe, her tendency to hoard.
It wasn’t too much of a problem when I was younger, but by the end of her life, we were debating whether she really needed fifteen colanders in various shapes and sizes. When she died late last year, her apartment was still filled with unpacked boxes from a move five years earlier.
So, we set to work... Read the rest