My Grandfather died a few years ago and being the skinflint he was he left nothing of worth behind. My grandmother had lived way below her means when she could have lived much better.
On my granddads property was a shed that he never allowed anyone to go into but himself. No one knew what was in there.
My grandmother said I could have anything in there so I in eager anticipation took my granddads keys and opened the door.
I've never seen so much junk in all my life. Hand cranked adding machines with the ribbons all over the place. A typewriter old enough to be useless and young enough to be worthless. Nothing of value. Junk every scrap of what was in there was worthless.
Apparently what the old buzzard was guarding against prying eye were his files. Looking into those files I saw nothing spectacular or even remotely interesting.
The junk was so useless that my grandmother would have to pay someone to haul the junk out of there.