I never, ever throw photos away. Ever. Even of people I don’t know. It’s all rooted in some superstition that I honestly can’t explain.
My parents are like this. We have countless albums and boxes (and boxes) of photos and roughly one million and a half VHS tapes. We’re going through them and cataloging what we can, but there’s a lot of memories there that will remain unremembered.
You guys, I can’t even bring myself to throw away doubles. I have a whole MESS of doubles from a trip abroad with an ex of mine that I keep saying I’ll get to him one day. Only, we don’t speak at all, so it could very well be that I’ll still have them shoved in a shoebox in a storage unit when I’m 80.
You’d think that the digital age has made this easier. But oh, no.
I haven’t backed up my phone in months because there’s barely any room for me to transfer my photos to my hard drive.
And having a kid? Let’s just say he’ll never forget his childhood because I recorded all of it. And backed it up on dropbox. And Google. And YouTube. And two storage devices. And a time machine. And very likely printed out copies of most of it. (Not to mention the random memory sticks littering the bottom of all my purses.)
With a memory like mine it’s no wonder, but I still think this counts as hoarding.