Like a starlet rejecting designer clothing from inside her dressing room, Linda sent a stream of bags flying out of my hall closet. As they fell into a colorful drift on my kitchen floor, I could hear her gentle question before she even asked.

“How many bags is enough bags?” she mused as we surveyed the drift of roughly four dozen that had been taking up two shelves in my hall closet.

There was the sweet little blue airplane backpack my son carried as a kindergartener (three years ago). The monogrammed tote my daughter used for ballet shoes (five years ago). Clever pack-inside-themselves reusable bags. Lunch bags. Three sizes of insulated bag for picnics and snacks. That cute owl bag! Not one but two of the nearly indestructible blue canvas Ikea bags that will hold absolutely anything of any shape or size. The oilcloth canvas bag that is an odd size (a gift!). The funky printed shopping bags that Hot Momma cleverly deploys to turn me into a willing human billboard. The super-durable giant paper shopping bags that surely will come in handy for something. The teeny-tiny paper shopping bags that will surely come in hand for something. And of course, a pile of plastic amoebas that are the scourge of environmentalists everywhere. My closet was holding them all, until Linda freed them from their prison.

How many bags is enough bags? For me, the answer is one dozen, not four. Thank you Linda, for your gentle, helpful question.