Cleaning the clutter

I've been bitten by another crazy cleaning streak. I am once again mercilessly going through things to be gotten rid of. In the process, I've made a few observations:

• I have a yarn stash people's grandmothers would envy. Minus the fact that about half of it consists of textured yarns that said grandmothers would find difficult to work with. It's getting out of hand.
  
• In addition to yarn, I have a stash of plastic bags that would put any bag lady to shame. On the other hand, they are for certain crafts. And, they're in different colors!
• But more than yarn and bags, I have many, many books. There were books on my closet floor I forgot I had (more books than shoes, by a ratio of at least 5:1). Of course, that also means there were multiple copies. That said, one can never have too many copies of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
• I also found a box of old cards and letters. Buried in the bottom? A poem written when I was 14. (As I've said repeatedly, I was emo before emo was cool. Well before the advent of whiny pop-punk songs and narcissistic and self-pitying Myspace pages, I moped with the best of them. And wrote poems. Awful ones wondering why life was worth living.) And I also found a couple notices from vanity anthologies saying I had poems accepted for publication, and would I like to buy a bound copy for myself? Oh, man. I hope those have disappeared into obscurity.