While talking with a friends a few days ago, we got on to the subject of extra junk in our attics, garages, and spare rooms.  One of us lamented that they were probably one of the few people having more items than space.  “No, have you driven around town lately?  The only ‘new’ thriving business in this recession looks to be in storing other people’s junk.”   While we had to admit none of us would actually qualify to be featured on “Hoaders” , we all had more junk than we really wanted.  In fact, I used to live in a neighborhood where I was the only one who parked my car inside the garage.  One by one, I was privy to discovering why that was so.  My next door neighbor accidently opened his garage door once only to reveal five isles of shelves filled with old cast-offs from every member of his family.  And I mean FILLED from top to bottom–at least six feet tall piled on shelving all across the two-car garage area right behind the door.  I couldn’t see how much was behind the shelves; however, all I could see was unorganized warehouse stocking of anything I imagined I might ever want to examine before purchasing.  Another neighbor had me out in their garage where it was revealed: one huge metal stamping machine with sheet metal stacked across over half of the floor surface.  I really can’t judge them—I had boxes stacked along a living room wall in one of the places my family lived in when a child was around three years old.   You know, the age when you will get crayon masterpieces on the walls.  A fellow day-care parent queried how I handled the problem of “writing on the wall”.  “I don’t have that problem.”  I had to admit that it wasn’t because my child was an angel, it was the boxes against the walls.  The really great thing was I didn’t have to clean or repaint the walls and I had the most uniquely designed apple boxes in the world.  (As they were disposed of the art work was saved into a file for the child.)