My mother is going through a cupboard with old stuff that nobody ever touches. I am a minimalist who loves, to the point of being obsessive about it, to get rid of stuff. My mother who has lived through some very rough times hardly ever gets rid of anything, ever. In case it comes in handy later.
Mother: "Here are some wet wipes. I'll hang on to them, might come in handy."
Me: "Mum! Those are 10 years old! They'll be all dried out by now, throw them away."
Mother: "Well, if you wet them a little bit, they will still work. I'll keep them."
Ten minutes later:
Mother (brings me a little ugly box that is falling apart at the seams, made out of Sixties' plastic-like material): "My father made me this. Should I keep it or throw it away?"
Me (nostalgia creeping into my hardened heart): "Keep it."
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