Recently I moved from my small rental house in West Columbia to a fairly large 2-bedroom apartment in Houston. I'm not a man who thrives on change or transition, so as you might expect it was tough for me. I'm having a period of adjustment. And adjustment is hard -- especially when it comes to getting rid of some of the 32-some-odd-years of crap that I've managed to collect.

But as tough as throwing out that cat-shredded chair and those broken appliances might be, I have to admit that it's somewhat cathartic. There's something sort of cleansing about the whole process. It's very Zen. Open a box, separate the hypothetical wheat from the chaff, take a deep breath and live on.

I'm amazed at how much garbage I hold on to. I have things that are broken and useless, software that's so old it won't run on any existing computer system, pieces of equipment that are missing components and components that are missing equipment - both of which are long gone! All this rummaging, sorting, unpacking and tossing is kind of therapeutic. It makes me think. It makes me ask inevitable questions about the nature of the universe. Questions such as, "Why did I keep all this crap?"

So why DO I keep it? Do I have some pathological need to be surrounded by useless junk? Is it sentimentality run amok? What causes me to be so meticulous about holding on that that little doo-hickey adapter but so careless that I've misplaced the piece of equipment it goes with? Why do I keep JUNK?

I think that sentimentality does play a role here. When I was packing this stuff for the move my girlfriend Kara became a little annoyed with the fact that I would pause on certain items, reflect on them, relay a story about where they came from and what they do and what they mean to me. I would see her eyes roll and hear a slight, exasperated sigh escape her lips. She was focused on "getting this done." I was busy trouncing along in a world of nostalgic memories. So yeah, I admit that I hold on to certain things out of an over-developed sense of sentiment.

But there's something else at work entirely when it comes to a couple of plastic crates full of miscellaneous electronics and parts. There's not much in the way of nostalgia in there. That particular bit of clutter serves a practical purpose -- it's the "just in case" collection.

I'm a "contingency" kind of guy. I'm not much for planning in general, but I'll admit that I always have a back-up plan in the back of my mind anyway. I'd rather improvise and free associate than meticulously plan and think out everything in advance. My best work and greatest accomplishments have come from a sort of "dive in and swim" technique. But today, in writing, I'm going to admit to everyone that I have a secret... I always have a back-up plan.

That's ultimately what the bins of wires and parts and adapters and clutter are all about. They're a back-up plan. They're for contingency.

Have you just bought a new computer and you're missing a power cable? I have your back. Need an adapter to go from a stereo output to a mono input? I'm your man. Need a cable splitter so you can run cable to your bedroom? Who's your buddy?

So clutter can be a good thing. Honest. I mean, it's not like it's laying around in drifts all over my apartment, waiting for some small child to haplessly wander into it and sink to their doom. It's neat, well organized, easily burrowed through. I've only lost one goat and a couple of Sherpas in there.

I may never be able to clear out ALL of the clutter in my life. I'd like to... believe me! How much simpler would life be if all I had was a laptop and a box of Fruity-Ohs to worry about? How much money would I save if I could rent an efficiency apartment and have room to spare? How stress-free would moving be if I could cram all of my belongings into a backpack? I'd be a free man! My life would be light and airy and full of butterflies wings and happy rainbow songs.

But that wouldn't be me, now would it? I'm the contingency guy -- somewhat materialistic and happy to have the problem of "Where do I put my big screen TV?" So "Zen-like simplicity" may always elude me. But at least I have a book about it somewhere.