Our wallets are one of the few items granted the dubious honor of following us around nearly every day. For most of us, they not only keep some essentials at hand, but become a universal storage space for the little odds and ends we come across throughout our day.

As a result, your wallet really tells a lot about you. A wallet full of neatly folded receipts might indicate a details-oriented personality, or a savvy/paranoid spender. A billfold stuffed with business cards is the mark of a networker. Or you might just have a wallet full of random things that provide clues to your personality: my best friend and roommate’s wallet contains a hand-drawn fighter pilot license I made him in middle school, about a dozen Chinese food fortunes, and not-quite-empty farecards for an assortment of public transportation systems across the globe (just in case). Those three items alone make for a pretty accurate picture of Jared.

I started thinking about this in earnest when I was gearing up to hike the Appalachian Trail in the Spring/Summer of 2007. The very last piece of gear I purchased for my six-month hike was a new wallet. I replaced the bulky leather tri-fold I got as a birthday present from my buddy Tobin with a slim nylon pouch with three pockets, capable of carrying about 15 bills and 10 cards. This was a big transition for me: I had developed a bad case of wallet packrat-ism, and saying goodbye to my drawings, membership cards, and other assorted miscellany was no easy task.

I realize in retrospect that my slimmed down wallet was just one component of a generally slimmed-down lifestyle. Trail life was exceedingly simple, free of the complex constraints of scheduling or obligations. The transition was so thorough that I found myself struggling to manage the little intricacies of the real world upon my return: my time management skills and capacity to worry about the minutiae of social life were diminished.

While I came to grips with the shift from simplicity to complexity, my wallet slowly bulged. On the trail all I needed was a few bucks in cash, two credit cards, my license and insurance card. I gradually added another credit card, a school ID, and a then bulky electronic RFID cards to get me into the subway, my office, and local rental cars.

I finally gave in yesterday when I received my first ever batch of business cards. I tried to wedge a few into my tightly-packed nylon wallet, but it just wasn’t happening. It was with some resignation that I shifted my cards back to my trusty leather tri-fold.

I’m not going to throw out my little green wallet, though. It will go right into the drawer where my bulky, complex, real world billfold was stored for a year. I hope to be ready for it again soon – I know it will be waiting.