I remember as a kid we got a new pram to replace the really old one that was used for my the first 3 of us. My brother asked if he could have the old one to make a go cart out of and was told he could. To me it seemed like an act of betrayal. I still feel that way about things sometimes. I don't think they are alive I just feel some sort of loyalty to something that has served me well. I have pack rack tendencies but am trying not to become a hoarder. Ds7 cries if I throw his torn clothes out but is OK with donating outgrown stuff.
