ABSTRACT
Let me just say this as a preface. There are a lot of things I like about my life, and the thing that gives me the most satisfaction, in an incidental way, is the spare room. A good man deserves a spare room. A mark of success is having a place where useless and obsolescent objects can be stored. The kinds of things you only think about when you’re staring at them, you never miss. They are the transitory relics of a human being’s inability to focus or commit. And that’s fine. I’m man enough to know it. The spare room eliminates guilt and depression caused by awareness of money wasting and intellectual dilettantism. You chuck everything in the spare room and you close the door. It doesn’t seem like much, but believe me, it is. It’s everything.
