The Immortal To-Do List

My Bins Will Outlive Me – A Legacy of Stuff No One Asked For

I am not a hoarder.

I just have…bins.

Bins full of things I once deemed important enough to keep but not important enough to actually deal with. Papers, photos, mystery cords that must have powered something very critical at some point, sentimental trinkets whose meaning I have long forgotten but whose significance still feels just weighty enough to prevent me from tossing them.

And the cycle continues. I sort. I stuff. I stash. It’s a beautiful system—until I die and leave it all behind for my children, who will spend hours squinting at my collections, asking, “Why did he save this?” and “Was this important?” and “Should we throw this out?” (Answer: yes. Always yes.)

Seinfeld once joked about stuff—how we shuffle it around, moving it from drawers to closets to basements to garages, where it is sentenced to a slow, quiet death. My bins are the same. They begin their life full of promise, neatly stacked, labeled with good intentions, only to be forgotten until the day I make another half-hearted attempt at organizing. Then, in a poetic twist, I simply consolidate them into more bins.

This is why the most immortal thing I will ever create is not my artwork, my writing, or my words of wisdom—it’s my To-Do List. Because sorting the bins has been on it for years. It will outlive me. And when I am gone, my children will inherit the task they never asked for.

Perhaps this is my final act of rebellion. A way of saying, “Remember me—one last time—by asking why I kept this old concert ticket, this key to nothing, and a box full of chargers that belong to devices no longer in existence.”

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s time to start throwing things away.

…Maybe next year.