It's not hard to see why so many stores are piling their shelves with plastic storage boxes during this winter slow season. This is the time when you either travel South or suffer at home, spending time sorting through stuff. It's what February is designed for: sifting through the papers and photographs - and let's face it - then putting the lid back on the box and ducking the whole "should I discard it?" issue.

There are parts of my house that I intend to organize every year. I promise that I'll thin out and trash, but that's as hard as keeping up a resolve to be abstemious during the Lenten season.

I opened a box the other night and found my German-born great-great-grandmother's deed from Most Holy Redeemer Cemetery on Belair Road. That was all it took to deflect my attention from sorting and cleaning. I spent the next hour planning a trip - although not actually buying the necessary airline ticket - to what might have been her Old World hometown. As it now stands, the box of old documents is still overflowing and my travel plans remain stalled in pleasant inertia.

Maybe it's my occupation, but I've never met a newspaper clipping that I could discard. Someone before me preserved front pages reporting on the Baltimore Fire (note the recent 104th anniversary), World Wars I and II, the abdication of King Edward and his marriage to Wallis Warfield Simpson, as well as Colts and Orioles stuff. Isn't it my duty to mothball all these pages and let somebody else worry about where they'll go one day?

As much as my once-Baltimore-wet basement has been excavated, a neat concrete floor poured and shelves built, I've filled it happily with categories and classifications.

I'll divulge a secret: The computer and the Internet have made things worse. The Web has vastly enlarged the world of hoarding and stashing. Every day kindred spirits are listing old newspapers and pulpy treasures. I've filled a fresh shoebox of them since Thanksgiving. The same with books that I used to search for on a Saturday afternoon. It's not really fair. You just tap on a computer and titles that once took years to find now pop up. Hit the checkout button and the mail deliverer has it at your door the next week.

Years ago I realized that precious little of this dubious treasure would ever go into a recycling bin. If anything, I solicit donations from friends and family. On a miserable February day or night, there is something comforting about opening a box and finding your first-ever train ticket (Camden to Mount Royal on the B&O;) or a report card or high school publication. Sometimes it's an emotional experience; mostly it's just fun.

The fact that the stuff isn't overly organized is part of this game. I also believe in letting boxes sit on the shelf for long periods between openings. Much that was once important gets forgotten, but once exhumed, becomes amusing - and not a bad way to deal with February.

jacques.kelly@baltsun.com