I think I've mentioned that I lack the sentimental gene. I think I was just built that way, but moving around a lot, in childhood and adulthood, has a way of prioritizing things (i.e. one gets tired of carrying so much weight). But one thing I absolutely cannot part with is something that, in its way, is still beautiful, still of use.
In fact, that's my criteria for pretty much anything--is it useful? Does it carry its own beauty? If I can answer yes to both, then it stays. Otherwise, it gets repurposed, returned, or donated. I am not a collector and, frankly, I'd never be a great memorialist (I have an odd, uneasy relationship with memory). But I do love to be of use and I want that relationship with the items with which I choose to populate my living space.
Art is of use (always). An old spatula, in its simple and elegant utility, is a beautiful thing. The point is I determine use and beauty. My definitions (and you, yours). But those two criteria are vital, I think, lest we crowd ourselves, finally, out of our space for good.