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![]() Personal blog of christian
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Shock And AweIt’s been two full weeks since Oprah aired her episodes about the hoarding couple. Two full weeks since I witnessed Peter Walsh, who wrote “It’s All Too Much,” go through that house with a nit-picking comb, subjecting himself to a fungal infection that spread from his leg up to his scalp. If you could see the transformation that has taken place in our home since those fateful episodes, well. You’d be proud, and maybe even motivated. We should have taken pictures, but the idea of looking at the pictures seemed very overwhelming at the time. And I didn’t need anything else to feel overwhelmed about! It’s been well-established by now that hoarding—which of course occurs across a spectrum of severity—is a type of obsessive/compulsive disorder. As hoarders go, I’m not bad. Really, I’m not. Much of my hoarding seems to be related to my image of myself as some kind of benevolent Earth Mother. I can’t begin to describe the amazing preparations I made for Y2K, and more recently for the possibility of a bird flu epidemic. OK, now you all think I’m nuts, but I’m reasonably certain most of you had arrived at that conclusion already, so what have I lost by being honest? :) The thing is, I’m getting a little old for the Earth Mother role. I’m ready to hang my hopes for survival on someone much younger and more energetic than I am. Don’t worry, though. If I end up at your house in the case of a disaster either God or man made, I promise to bring the few paltry items of sustenance and OTC meds I haven’t pitched by then. I may even have a blanket to spare, and one of those crank radios. Beyond that, I’ll expect you to have stored up enough food, water, rechargeable batteries, generator fuel (you do have a generator, right?),bedding, gasoline, and unground wheat to last until kingdom come. Just remember, I would have done it for you, even though—as it ends up—I didn’t. But this isn’t about you. It’s about Doug and me, and how we are freeing ourselves from junk. So far, we’ve made two runs to the Goodwill, with a station wagon absolutely loaded. This weekend, we’ll pack the station wagon with the third full load of pure trash. (Wow, an oxymoron, wouldn’t you say?) In addition, we’ve listed many large and heavy items on Craigslist, though we haven’t had any luck with those yet. Our final steps will be to rid ourselves of all the chemical waste in the house, garage, and basement—paint, and everything else that falls into that category. Then, whatever we can’t sell on Craigslist or give away through Freecycle, we’ll have hauled out of here. I know how hard it is to do this level of dumping when you still have kids in the house. During the summer of 2006, when both Carrie and Kevin moved all their things back in, I realized it would be fall of 2007 before we’d be able to make much of a dent. We were cool with that. But here’s the deal: If you miss your window of opportunity to get rid of it, it may not come again. Both of our mothers were young widows (around my age), and once our dads died, all bets were off. Both ladies continued to accumulate junk until the day we had to shovel them out of their homes and into assisted living. Their homes became way too much for them to manage by themselves, especially since they both tended toward being, let’s just say, packrats. I am so grateful Doug can help me with this. I do not have the type of brain that can easily make decisions about what to let go of and what to keep. I tend to justify holding onto things because I got “such a good deal,” whether I ever actually loved or needed the items at all. I also tend to consider myself the protectress of Other People’s Stuff. I have purchased furniture at garage sales when the owner mentioned that the piece had originally belonged to her grandmother. By golly, if the granddaughter wouldn’t honor her own grandma by hanging onto her couch, then I would! Because that’s the kind of granddaughter I am! By Christmas, we’ll be done with this gigantic purge. It will feel so good that I won’t need another gift to celebrate the season. If you can’t resist getting me something, promise me it won’t be anything I’ll have to pay big bucks to have carted off. Or anything that belonged to Someone Else’s Grandma.
Posted by Katy on 11/28/07 at 04:50 PM
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