I watched Hoarders last night.
During the first commercial break, I dared to look around my living room and I thought, oh holy mother of four-letter-word. Color me cluttered.
Yes, it's true that most of my mess is hidden and collecting dust in the dark, but I know what's there -- like the 100+ VHS tapes in my bookshelf/ media cabinet, for instance. Yes, I love knowing that should I desire to watch my old school copy of Riding in Cars with Boys or Girls Just Wanna Have Fun or The Royal Tenembaums or Serendipity or Ghost World or Memento or...
okay. You get the picture. It's there. If I wanted it, it would be right there.
Also semi-hidden? Probaby 50+ copies of this weekly magazine from the late 1960's - early 1970's called Story of Life. My grandma gave them to me. Have I cracked the cover of even one issue?
Hell to the no. I don't have time for that type of nostalgia. Plus, I can't even find a link for it with a quick google search. Something that obscure can't matter much, right?
Then there are the dinner dishes which belonged to my mother and her mother before her. I boxed those suckers up after the wedding, when the hubs and I received the chic cherry blossom dishes from my our gift registry.
The plan was to box them up and then head over to Goodwill to hand-down my hand-me-downs.
Nope. They are stashed up above my washer and dryer, situated on a shelf that will probably someday snap in half from the weight of the eight to ten place settings. (Not to mention the gravy boat and sweet little sugar and cream holders. And those are just adorable.)
When it came down to it, I didn't want to give away those dishes. I've been eating off of them for the better part of three decades! I can almost picture my grandfather, now long gone, spooning sugar on his morning grapefruit or grits.
I always assumed I got this emotional-ism from my own mother, a sap if there was ever a sap.
But then a few years ago she got all spring-clean-y (and menopausal) and went so far as to let my father chop up the piano from her childhood, which, to be honest, is so far gone tune-wise that it could probably never to plucked back into the correct key.
He made it into a modern-looking end table. It actually does look pretty cool.
Still.
So, I'm torn. I'm torn between holding on possessions from the past which evoke certain memories for me -- and shedding my life of the stuff well before I become one of those crazy cat ladies who can't even negotiate her way from the living room to the litter box without knocking over piles and piles of her memories.
What do you think? What stuff are you holding on to? What would it mean to give it away?
During the first commercial break, I dared to look around my living room and I thought, oh holy mother of four-letter-word. Color me cluttered.
Yes, it's true that most of my mess is hidden and collecting dust in the dark, but I know what's there -- like the 100+ VHS tapes in my bookshelf/ media cabinet, for instance. Yes, I love knowing that should I desire to watch my old school copy of Riding in Cars with Boys or Girls Just Wanna Have Fun or The Royal Tenembaums or Serendipity or Ghost World or Memento or...
okay. You get the picture. It's there. If I wanted it, it would be right there.
Also semi-hidden? Probaby 50+ copies of this weekly magazine from the late 1960's - early 1970's called Story of Life. My grandma gave them to me. Have I cracked the cover of even one issue?
Hell to the no. I don't have time for that type of nostalgia. Plus, I can't even find a link for it with a quick google search. Something that obscure can't matter much, right?The plan was to box them up and then head over to Goodwill to hand-down my hand-me-downs.
Nope. They are stashed up above my washer and dryer, situated on a shelf that will probably someday snap in half from the weight of the eight to ten place settings. (Not to mention the gravy boat and sweet little sugar and cream holders. And those are just adorable.)
When it came down to it, I didn't want to give away those dishes. I've been eating off of them for the better part of three decades! I can almost picture my grandfather, now long gone, spooning sugar on his morning grapefruit or grits.
I always assumed I got this emotional-ism from my own mother, a sap if there was ever a sap.
But then a few years ago she got all spring-clean-y (and menopausal) and went so far as to let my father chop up the piano from her childhood, which, to be honest, is so far gone tune-wise that it could probably never to plucked back into the correct key.
He made it into a modern-looking end table. It actually does look pretty cool.
Still.
So, I'm torn. I'm torn between holding on possessions from the past which evoke certain memories for me -- and shedding my life of the stuff well before I become one of those crazy cat ladies who can't even negotiate her way from the living room to the litter box without knocking over piles and piles of her memories.
What do you think? What stuff are you holding on to? What would it mean to give it away?
Comments
I have a happy little space that was, when we moved in, designated as "mine".
It's crammed full of shit that my wife absolutely had to have but then decided we really don't need.
So much for "my" space.
However, despite all my 'keeping', there has been much 'un-keeping' over the last five years. After the wedding, many kitchen duplicates went to Goodwill. When we moved into the bigger house, I spread things out and got rid of anything that no longer held sentimental value. When we then picked up and moved 1300 miles and were paying for every ounce, we gave away nearly half of our things.
Now, as we prepare to move again, I've started down the road once more.
Wanna buy a prime condition 1979 John Travolta Dynamite magazine?
I'm very opposite, I keep nothing, must people say that my house is too clean, doesn't look lived in. I hate clutter, I hate keeping things I'll never use, clothing and shoes included, if it's been a few months it goes to goodwill.
why not keep like one or two of the magazines, and toss the rest? etc......
As we watched, I thought "Oh no. I am totally a hoarder." It's not that I have a ton of stuff, but it's the difficulty in the throwing away. I don't have time to clean! I'M WRITING!
But because it will be disgusting otherwise, I force myself to throw out old crap. It hurts. It really, really hurt to throw out all my college exams and essays. I might need to refer back to those someday. ;)