I am having perception zig-zags as Deb & I look at our household and make tentative decisions on what will go with us into an independent living unit and what will get passed along, sold, donated, or delivered into the tender hands of 1-800-GOT-JUNK.

That bookshelf? I got it cheap, because I was a junior officer and because moves in the Navy were hell on furniture, so it would get beaten to crap; I have now owned it longer than I had been alive when I bought it (oh, and its sister shelves did NOT make it, so good judgement on my part). It's junk, fit only for landfill.

That desk in my home office? A real wood desk, bought when I set up my first civilian household, sitting in only its third home, a symbol of my new stage in life; it's huge (holds three PCs, two printers, various external hard drives and gizmos, plus room for papers and odd junk) and will probably be too big to fit into our next and final (and as yet undetermined) home. But it seems silly to give it away when it's only... oh, THAT many years old? Feels like I just got it.