I've been called a pack rat
Yes, I probably am one. But every artifact I've kept from my travels--maps, postcards, ferry ticket stubs, chunks of marble found near an ancient temple, postcards advertising DJ Flipper at a nightclub on Mykonos--has the power to zip me off to a memory that might otherwise remain unreachable.
These days, as I try to write about Athens, Delphi, Santorini and Crete--places I can't easily get back to--those tiny feats of teleportation are essential.
Are writers more prone to rack rat syndrome than most? Writer friends, are you addicted to hanging on to everything, documenting each moment you might someday need to recall?