When I opened the door to the garage, a sound of rushing rodents followed the falling ceiling tiles as they bounced one after another across the room. The air tasted like old sweat and rotting cotton, and layers of dust were caked onto head-high piles of junk. Stepping back, I was horrified.

In a great act of philanthropy, I had flown 900 miles to clean out my grandmother's garage, only to discover the added bonus of a house infested by rats. Sadly, this image isn't too far from the truth for many Americans, who simply can't get rid of their junk.

When we cling to useless things, we allow ourselves to be defined by them. My grandma struggled with throwing away her junk because she saw her old things as parts of her life, when in reality they didn't contribute to her life at all. If they did, I wouldn't have found abandoned rat nests built in and around them.

A person should not be defined by what he or she has, but by what he or she does. If we allow ourselves to be defined by what we have, we start to judge others in the same way, and we force our materialistic attitudes upon them.

The best way to avoid a materialistic attitude is to prevent it from developing in the first place. Piles of junk, however, are materialistic things that one must simply throw away. Until we clear the junk from our lives, it will be difficult to see that there is more to us than what we possess and more to people than what they own.

It may seem painfully obvious, but during those two weeks of sifting through outdated garments and broken appliances, I learned the right attitude it takes to get rid of junk and to avoid collecting it: If it's not being used, then it needs to be sold or thrown away.

The first step is identifying what is and isn't junk. Many forms of the stuff exist, but there are some basic categories for some of the more popular styles of junk.

Collections are one such example. Coin, stamp and keychain collectors may cry foul, but I speak here of neglected collections of things with no historical, sentimental or monetary value. In this situation, collecting is a game to see who can gather the most excess of an item and then, instead of indulging in that excess, simply admire how much space it takes up. No one could possibly use my grandma's complete collection of Sunset magazines (dating past the '40s), which she got nervous over me even touching. If one must collect, at least collect something usable.

Antiques are another category, and those are a step above collectibles because they have educational or sentimental value. However, if they aren't going to be used (like a dresser or a '50s Coca Cola machine), or don't have significant historical value, they are probably just as much junk as a broken appliance.

Often times I hear the phrase "one-of-a-kind." This is a sort of dubious antique. It has all the flavor of an antique, but all the evil of a single collectible spoon. At my grandma's house it was an old broken radio and a dress from the early '70s. If it isn't being used, can't be sold and isn't even worthy of Goodwill, perhaps a bonfire in the backyard is the right place for it.

Perhaps the most wistful category is that of "wish clothes," which are clothes people plan on wearing when they lose weight. However, when people finally lose weight, they don't want to wear old clothes. Instead, they go shopping for new clothes in the hottest fashion. So if it doesn't fit now, send it to Goodwill.

Since electronics have the highest rate of replacement in any house but are usually the last item to be thrown away, these deserve to be remembered in their own category. Make a habit of taking used electronics to recycling stations, or as a last resort to the dump, when new ones are up and working.

When we fill our lives with useless things, we are tied down and restricted by them. My grandma can't move into a healthier environment until her house has been cleaned of all her junk. It was hard for her to part with her stuff at first, but after 10 stressful loads to the dump and four to Goodwill, she has started to see the light. People are not what they own, but rather what they do and what they give of themselves.

By avoiding the temptation to fill our lives with junk, we help ourselves see beyond the superficial things in life and learn to appreciate people for the content of their characters and not the contents of their houses.

Reach columnist Celeste Flint at celesteflint@thedaily.washington.edu