Sometimes I do things that just make me shake my head and ask, “what’s wrong with me?” The most recent example of this dovetails well with my last post about the T.V. show, Collection Intervention. As I explained there, I tend to sympathize with the collectors in that show despite the fact that I think the producers want the viewer to go the other way. But if some chick rolled into my house and told me I needed to get rid of 1/2 my stuff AND I need to see a therapist, She’d get my size twelves right in the butt. But then again, a case maybe could be made that I do need professional help. Let me explain…