I am the anti-hoarder. I’m constantly stuffing things my family doesn’t use (though they might argue that point – who knew that backpack contained my husband’s Blackberry?) into sacks for Goodwill. The amount of stuff in my house refuses to lessen, though.
The problem is that my husband and I are voracious thrift shoppers. We are incapable of saying no to a bargain.
Him: “Check out this wetsuit! Only five dollars!”
Me: “But it doesn’t fit. And you already have a wet suit. And you don’t scuba dive.”
Him: “But it’s only five dollars!”
Me: “Well, okay. And get the fins, too. And what about this waffle iron?”
And as the children are generally with us, this thrift fever has been passed along to them. It’s difficult to deny your child a forty-nine cent fire truck when you yourself have just purchased eighty-seven pairs of boots.Hence, the multiple wetsuits (I’m serious, he has four) hanging in my husband’s closet. And the boots in mine. And the collection of fire trucks that could rival just about any other child’s collection in the continental U.S. (as everyone knows, Hawaiians and Alaskans are notorious fire truck hoarders.) And the piles of Wiggles paraphernalia. (Huh. Who knew that’s how paraphernalia is spelled? Was that R always there?). The Wiggles collection is my four-year old’s, but I sneakily encourage it due to my lurid and enduring fantasies about Anthony, the blue Wiggle.
Then there are the various odd one-offs, like the broken bicycle pump: “You said I could pick one thing, and this is the thing I want!!”
“Wouldn’t you rather have a toy, or at least something that works?”
“No, I don’t want anything else, this is the best thing ever and this is what I waaaaaant!!!!!” (My husband, by the way, not my son.)
So, fearing that we are one broken bicycle pump away from Hoarders: Buried Alive, this week I aimed to seriously de-clutter. For freakin-real this time. I fantasized about a home that’s practically bare, where guests will enter and say “my, how… minimalist.” Eight bags of clothes, three boxes of baby toys, two additional sneaky boxes of toys my kids claim to play with (secreted out in the dead of night), three strollers I didn’t even know we had, and various other oddly shaped and unidentifiable things dropped off at Goodwill later and my house looks…the same.
This is going to be more difficult than I thought.
Photo Credit: By EvelynGiggles