A pile of items, sorted by the owner, has information in how it is organized that gives it value beyond the sum of the resale value. And the moment someone else

A pile of items, sorted by the owner, has information in how it is organized that gives it value beyond the sum of the resale value. And the moment someone else sees that pile, it's a pile of crap. This is what terrifies me about getting a brain operation. To me, my brain is my universe ... but while I am drugged out and wide open on a table, my brain is just 8 pounds of fruit punch they are debating whether has spoiled. Who would champion its value without my own presence? I live in the middle of nowhere New Hampshire. I have to drive a 2 hour round trip to get a specific brass screw, if I can't find one in my pile of crap in the woodshop's cabinets of drawers of boxes of envelopes. If I died, someone would toss all of it into a metal recycling scrap bin for 8 cents per pound. But to me it's worth 8 dollars per ounce, because of the information I have stored in it that no one else can access. It's the same general reason why my work desk is a mess to everyone but me; but I can earn a livelihood out of the state of my desk, my files, my folders. I think I wrote this reply for only myself but I sure got a boost out of it.