I have been reminded that, after an argument a year or three or four back about clutter, I wrote this poem after filling up the pigeon holes. I am currently engaged in trying to de-clutter the room around it and envisage a triumphant journey to our local recycling bins at dead of night.
I met a New York actress a decade ago who had a sideline as a professional de-clutterer. In sorting out one client’s affairs, she discovered he had a forgotten bank account with $10,000 in it.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
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