Tuesday, March 7, 2017

What I fear

There are some things in life that I am truly and embarrassingly afraid of.

I am afraid of dead cockroaches. Alive ones, too. But I see more dead ones.
I am afraid of frogs.
I am afraid of those oversized grasshoppers. You know the ones that are like 6 inches long and 2 feet tall? When I see one outside, I scream and run the other direction.

These are things that make me quiver in fear.

I am not afraid of being mugged, shot, stabbed, heights, small spaces, or anything usual- but, put me in a room with dead cockroaches and frogs, I am a puddle.

There is something else that I must confess. I am afraid that I will become a hoarder. It is so easy to hoard and I come from a long line of successful hoarders. The things that my family can hide from sight but not from reach will astound and astonish you.

When I was a new mother and visiting my aunt, Birdie needed a diaper change. My aunt asked if I needed a mat and from virtually thin air she produced her son's kindergarten nap mat.

Her son was 20 at the time.

Like I said, I come from a line of hoarders.

And I love my hoarding family. When we need something, before heading to the store to {scoff} spend money and buy it, we will ask Woody if he has it. Typically, if he doesn't have it, he has something that will work or once worked and he found it on the side of the road.

One of the reasons we like to move so much is that it keeps us from developing and honing our hoarding skills. If we are constantly relocating, we are constantly filling trash bags and throwing things away.

In the past week, I have thrown out no less than one dozen trash bags full of .... stuff.

Not those white kitchen trash bags; those are for amateurs. Rather the oversized outdoor black trash bags that mobsters use to hide dead bodies. Instead of dead bodies, we are hiding our crazy- sending it to the landfill.

"You should give it to GoodWill," if I had a penny for every time I heard that, I would have about fifteen cents. My answer is simple: NO. If I have to give it away and cannot get rid of it immediately, somehow the contents of those dead-body-black-trash-bags make their way out and back into the rotation.

The packers are coming tomorrow and will probably run for cover once they see what is ahead of them. I have thinned as much as I can stand. As we close down this house and move to another one,  I am excited that I evade that hoarder status for another few years.

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