Accumulations.

Someone moving out of their apartment's always cause for investigation, and sometimes, I get lucky: a couple folding baskets for my closet that replace the cardboard boxes that had been there since I moved in. I'd never gotten around to replacing them with anything, and after a while, just adjusted to their presence and got attached to them.

I'm trying to ask myself why I'm unwilling to let go of certain things I'm not using, like old pajamas. It's an unpleasant inertia. They're not even particularly nostalgic. I think some of it's just me bristling at the idea of getting rid of things, even though I know better. At least a little is there not being good places for fabric to go. If there were some, knowing that would certainly help a bit with conceptualizing not having them anymore.