A wise (not really) fictional character once said, "I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now the skilful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these he has a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. It is a mistake to think that that little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent. Depend upon it there comes a time when for every addition of knowledge you forget something that you knew before. It is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones." My brain-attic has a lot of locked draws and a few open boxes. A discarded letter here a closed book there. I'm running out of space and I need to clean up. It's time to take out the keys and look through old stuff and be all sentimental and trash them all away. Welcome to the inner workings of my head. You've been cautioned, it's a mess.