Having been raised by one hoarder and once married to another, I myself am a big purger. No way do I want to ever again live in a house crammed with crap. Nor, when I check out, do I want to leave my son to sort through 5,000 coffee cans of rusty nails, a vast collection of headless Barbies, and a stack of National Geographics dating back to the 1800s. So, several times a year, I go through my already very small pile of possessions and I purge. I take bags of clothes and kitchen stuff to my favorite thrift store, Top Drawer. I redistribute CDs I’ve imported to my Mac. And, once in awhile, I part with books, which is a little bit more difficult, as books and yarn are the two things I would hoard if I did hoard. ...