As I have pointed out before, I am a hoarder. Not in the “put me on tv and embarrass me in front of millions as I show you my house filled with three-story high piles of newspaper and boxes of cat poop (when I don’t even have a cat…well, I don’t think I do…I haven’t seen him for a while…)” kind of way but the normal “Man, this house is a pigsty, why do I have so much crap?!” kind of way.
I think I have always been this way. I remember keeping stuff as a kid that most other kids would have thrown away. I always loved stuff that was free. Junk on someone’s verge? I’ll take it! Clothes someone else has outgrown? Sure, thanks! Books that are probably to young for me now but I used to love them and hey, in twenty years I might have kids? Hand ’em over! I was always planning for a future where I would need these things. A future that pretty much never happened, in most cases.
Anyway, having a hoarding issue creates stress in other areas of your life. My husband is starting to look at me in that “I knew I should’ve just gotten a pet fish or something instead of getting married…A fish would be neat and tidy and wouldn’t interrupt me while I’m watching Star Trek…” kind of way. He sighs a lot. That’s never a good thing.
Deciding to have a day of crafting becomes a huge drama as I have to first clear a space in all the junk on my crafting table before adding more mess to it by actually crafting. I don’t work neatly – I spread out and there is stuff everywhere. I don’t understand how people can be artistic and tidy. I can’t see how the two go together. I mean, I read those magazines that show you how other artists “create” and I despair. I don’t believe they are real – they can’t be. I reckon there is secretly a pile of junk just out of camera view that gets moved around for each shot.
My craft room is definitely the worse hoarding spot. I keep every scrap of paper and fabric and ribbon and bits and pieces. Usually they are so small as to be useless but I still keep them. There’s also a bit of the eco-warrior in me so I keep the bits and pieces rather than adding them to landfill (so I think). What I try not to think about is that I am actually creating my own little landfill spot, right in my very own home. I could be buried under it all one day and no one would know.
So this weekend I am trying to get things straight. I’m determined to de-clutter at least one corner of the room. I want to see the floor again and discover what is hidden by those boxes behind the door. I’d like to be able to open the door in the first place. I’ve already chucked out the contents of one file…well, almost all of it…I re-filed some of it because, well, y’now, I might actually decide to practice Bach Flower Remedies again sometime soon. I haven’t looked at that file for about 12 years but hey, I might soon. I’ve cut up some magazines I don’t need any more and put the clippings I do want from them into a photo album so they’re easier to access and I don’t have to go searching through a million magazines to find them. I’m going to make labels for the countless drawers I have so I know what’s in them (ooh, there’s a new concept!) and what should go in them. I figure if I just do a bit each day, maybe I will be finished by…Christmas?
So if you do see me on “Hoarders” in a few years (oh, who am I kidding? I mean months…) time, please think of me kindly and know that I did try. I really did.