“What’s all this stuff?” “Is this your stuff?” “How did all this stuff get here?” “Take your stuff and go!”

We say these things, but usually when the word is not stuff but stuffing something positive is implied — stuffing for a turkey, stuffing for a pillow or stuffing for a piñata. And there was once stuffing for bras.

William Shakespeare wrote, “We are such stuff as dreams are made on.” And Benjamin Franklin wrote, “Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of.”

Of course, in both cases, this was meant to be good stuff.

In 1983, we had the movie “The Right Stuff,” a re-enactment of the moon landing, and those astronauts were certainly all the right stuff. Recently, a New York Times crossword puzzle clue used the word in this way: “the best stuff for a Bird.” The answer was Larry.

It’s interesting the stuff we can’t have too much of — love and money, and, in my case, books.

I was in a meeting recently where two different people used the word “stuff.” I think in those two cases, the word was used as a shortcut to avoid having to elaborate on what they were thinking.

But, when does something become stuff? What’s now referred to as “stuff” was once something valued, even loved, maybe had a life of its own. “The Velveteen Rabbit” — both the rabbit and the book — became stuff only after being expelled from first the bedroom and then the attic. What’s in the trunk of the car is stuff because the picnic is over, the wicker hamper almost empty. There’s now no expectation attached to anything in the trunk.

It’s interesting that stuff becomes stuff at the end of things, never the beginning.

Do we know when we have too much stuff? We have closets overflowing with clothes, rooms cramped with furniture and garages full of unused garden tools.

We go to yard sales and rummage sales and come home with what was other people’s stuff.

What’s in the attic or basement is mostly stuff — old clothes, old electronics and old furniture. It’s no longer useful to us, but for some reason we can’t bear the idea of getting rid of it. Maybe that old table could be painted; maybe that jacket will come back in style — or maybe one day will fit again!

My cleaning lady, Maria, was helping me sort through boxes in the garage when we opened one that contained old tablecloths and sheets. Why on earth had I saved any of this? From one box, we pulled out a faded red cotton spread, probably something imported from India back in the ’70s. What had it been used for? Was it something used for sunbathing? Or for a picnic? Or maybe it really was used as a bedspread?

Thinking it might still be useful, I said, “Why don’t we take this in and put it in the hall closet?”

“No,” she said. “You have too much stuff in there already.”

Jill Holmes is a San Rafael resident. IJ readers are invited to share their stories of love, dating, parenting, marriage, friendship and other experiences for our How It Is column, which runs Tuesdays in the Lifestyles section. All stories must not have been published in part or in its entirety previously. Send your stories of no more than 600 words to lifestyles@marinij.com. Please write How It Is in the subject line. The IJ reserves the right to edit them for publication. Please include your full name, address and a daytime phone number.