DON'T FORGET TO LAUGH
When You Call Me a Hoarder, Enunciate
Clutter is my enemy. You could even call me a hoarder. Just be sure to enunciate, please.
Recently, I came across a list of “37 Things in Your Home to Get Rid of Now.” I expected to find a list of toxic items. Instead, I uncovered pure insanity.
In my world, this is a list of “37 Things to Hang on to as if Your Life Depended on it.” The author disagrees.
Here is just a sampling of what this crazy expert says I should throw out.
That near-empty ice-cream carton in the freezer. On what planet is tossing ice-cream a viable solution. “Near-empty” is the perfect amount to eat out of the container and save a bowl from the dishwasher.
Old t-shirts you no longer wear. PLEASE, this is material for my sons’ memory quilts. T-Shirts are mementos from JDRF Walks and Science Olympiad competitions. “I’m a Little Crabby” tie-dyed beauties from Sunset Beach are my favorites. One day these shirts will be hand-stitched together to be hung in the living room of my kids’ houses.
No, I have never quilted. Yes, there is a cross-stitch I’ve been working on about 5 years I really should finish first. Of course, there is also the felt stocking kit I bought before Chris was born. He’ll be 22 next month. I did take it out of the package once. It looked complicated, so I stuck it back in.
This stocking was going to be a treasured heirloom created with love. Then I discovered similar ones were available for a buck at the dollar store. Santa couldn’t tell the difference. Neither could Chris.
Office supplies, such as pens that no longer work. Oh, how I wish I could toss these. A pen is found on the table or behind a sofa cushion. I scribble with it. It doesn’t work. I scribble harder. Still doesn’t work. I rub the point to see if dried ink is clogging it. Scribble again. Scribble harder and faster. Nope, it still doesn’t work. So, I place it in a mug already crowded with other pens because it just may work next time I try it.
2013 Calendars. No way. If I still have decades worth of calendars, I’m hanging on to last year’s. How else will I know that I had lunch with a friend on April 13, 1992 and a dental appointment August 2, 2002. These things are important.
Any plastic storage container that doesn’t have a lid. Oh, for Pete’s sake. It has a lid. I just need to find it. If the container held a snack consumed in the car, there is a possibility the lid fell out of the car when I went through the drop-off lane at school. Usually the kind teachers opening car doors would toss stuff back in, but on a busy morning, they could have missed it.
Promotional mugs and glasses that came free with a meal. Why would they assume I have glassware besides this?
Packets of duck sauce, soy sauce and ketchup. If you can get them home, they are worth keeping. It’s the transporting that is the problem. Once you have Taco Bell “Fire” sauce squirted in the car because someone stepped on it, you know to be careful with these little packets of doom.
Unidentified foil wrapped things in your freezer. This used to be a problem. I bought meats on sale and froze a portion, The mountain of foil lumps in my refrigerator -freezer grew pretty quickly. Then, one day, I reached in to get a near-empty carton of ice-cream and a frozen roast slid out and landed on my foot. I knew it was time to stop the madness. Thank goodness we had space in the spare room for a large freezer.
This one kills me the most. Piles of ticket stubs, old transit passes, etc. to concerts and places you don’t really remember going in the first place. I’m sorry, WHAT? The memories of each of these events is still playing vividly on the movie reels of my mind. Having a shoe box full of these pieces of paper is not the reason I can’t open the front door. This pile of stuff brings me joy and makes me smile. It stays. Period.
There is one “item to get rid of” which I find agreeable. Near-empty booze bottles containing one pathetic shot. There are several of these in the kitchen cabinet. In the name of cleanliness, I will sit down tonight and see just how pathetic they are. If you have some you would also like to empty, come on over.
Carol Wilber Bradfield is one of those "Lake People." She snuck into Davidson many years ago when someone left the gate open one night. If seen, please approach carefully and give her a hug... and cash if you have it. Lots of cash. Thank you.