I’ve been tackling the flotsam collection points in our house lately. You know the ones I mean, the backs of closets, neglected drawers, and overlooked cupboards where homeless stuff hides in the dark.

This is the third year I have done a purge like this, and I can honestly say that I sense a microscopic difference in the level of stuff we no longer need or use.

I’ve also tried to be mindful about my rehoming. It’s a mindset I adopted after volunteering to sort books for an annual sale that ran for 50 years in our region before aging out with its volunteers.

Before that volunteering stint, I cringed at the thought of throwing a book away. (Except in the case of Clockwork Orange which appalled me so much, I tore it into pieces before adding it to my paper recycling. Horrid book.)

The whole point of that sale was selling used books at great prices to raise money for college scholarships. And who in their right mind spends money on ripped, mildewed, foxed, or hopelessly out-of-date volumes? No one. So those unsaleable items had to go.

During my first volunteer stint, it took a couple of hours before I could pitch a book onto the recycling mound without a second thought. After that, it was freeing.

Now that mindset accompanies me on my purging journeys. If I can’t remember why I kept something, it’s gone. Torn? Gone. Dirty? Gone. Would I buy it at a yard sale? If no, it’s gone.

My point is this—if you pass along something that no one else could or would use, you are not making a donation, you’re creating a financial burden for the nonprofit that’s taking in your stuff.

So purge. It’s good for you. But please do it mindfully.