You rise slowly from your chair and solemnly trudge to the closet. It is time.
Cautiously, you open the door. Nothing tumbles out. No crapvalanche. A fallen boxed Funko Pop acts as a keystone for the wall of junk facing you, impenetrable. You'll have to tunnel your way in.
Like the geologic record, each layer represents a different era of your development. You examine the deposits, hoping to start your excavation with the richest vein. Maybe you'll strike eBay gold. Where to begin?