Second: I now understand why so many horror movies end in a basement. In my personal version ("Hell is ... cleaning the basement"), the script goes:
SCENE: Our heroine (oddly old for this kind of script, we'll imagine her being played by Jodie Foster) casts her flashlight over a shadowed area in the far back of the basement.
"What's the strange object in the crushed box in the corner? Why it's ... "
CUT! Memories that she will destroy by throwing them away! (Imagine thoughtful letters from old friends.)
CUT! Useful objects whose value she denies by declining to keep them! (Imagine some micro-cassette tapes.)
CUT! A family history that she isn't willing to continue! (Imagine a mug depicting Charlie Chaplin, likely meant to drink beer out of in decades gone by.)
THE UTTER REJECTION OF HER PAST (thus leading to her withering into a tiny dot, which disappears with a "Pop!")
The intrepid explorer is reduced to gibbering terror and decides to set the house on fire rather than attempt to go through the trauma of emptying the boxes.
Or, if you will, it's a box of white sculpie, a punching-bag boddhisatva, and some plastic cups that used to belong to my grandma. I really just don't know where to start, which should be obvious since I spent more time looking for that image link above than I have actually cleaning the basement.
PS: Now with alternate scenario: You broke the ITEM OF INESTIMABLE NOSTALGIC VALUE!