Waking each morning to the facts of life.

I don't know, but it seems a fair guess that if we keep things in order to remind us of how we were when we first saved them, then it makes sense that we don't have to keep the things about which we don't have to be reminded. (It also makes sense that the art of collecting rests in knowing what's ubiquitous, and doesn't require a reminder, today but is going to be desired tomorrow.)

Each morning I comb my hair, or what's left of it, and each morning I see it in my brush, meaning that it's no longer there on my head. No particular memories are attached to this hair. It's part (or was part) of me, but with or without the hair I'm still me, and not different in any significant way. And I have to admit that I'm losing my hair daily. There are no watersheds, no important milestones that a particular strand of hair represents. It just happens. So I've got little reason to save an artifact that doesn't remind me of anything I've forgotten.

Of course people have been known to pay good money for a lock of hair of the famous, and if anyone is interested, I'll be happy to save some and sell it to them, on the outside chance that someday it will be worth something.