That made me laugh. Does he throw away all of your Christmas decorations?
Hey now!!! Don’t be dissing the margarine tubs!! Do you have ANY idea how many uses those things have? And they’re free ALL FREEE mwaahaha.
I didn’t quite go that far, nor did my mother before me. But I do have a hard time with empty space. Like nature, I seem to abhor a vacuum. (okay, okay, an empty space.)
My darling Marcie has three full wardrobes in three different sizes; each set of clothes includes winter coats, sweaters, and boots: “I might need them someday” and we live in Florida. Empty spaces cry out to be filled; if there is room for one chair, Marcie wants three. There are at least fifteen half-gallon paint cans in our garage; each can contains maybe one to two ounces of paint—all of them are at least five years old. I think she has every piece of paper she has ever received; receipts for college textbooks AND the books themselves and she is in her mid-fifties. I have the smallest closet in the house and she periodically puts clothes in it until she can buy another few storage boxes. She didn’t grow up poor, either. She is getting better, though. She can now ruthlessly weed out my possessions when she needs more room; hers are inviolate.
My brother is a packrat. He bought a bunch of action figures for one of the anime shows he’s into, took them out of the box to set them up in his room, and put the boxes in the garage.
Seeing as he already occupies about 40% of the space in the garage with boxes full of junk, I asked him why he was keeping the packages the figures came in.
“It makes them more valuable.”
“Oh. Are you planning on selling them in a few years when they’ve gone up in value?”
“Oh hell no! They’re too cool!”
“Then why keep the boxes they came in?”
“Because it makes them more valuable.”
At that point I had to leave the room. My brain was hurting.
Why even pack the toiletries? If you gotta go shopping anyway, you might as well buy those at your destination and throw them out along with the clothes. Seriously, I’d love if you could elaborate on the thought process behind this system, because I just don’t get it. Spending your money, energy, and precious vacation time on shopping for clothes you’ll wear once instead of just tossing the clothes you already own into a bag before you leave would horrify me, too.
There’s always a third way of doing things.
As the spouse of someone who never saw a piece of paper he didn’t like… AMEN.
However, there is hope. Find the Discovery Channel. Start watching “Clean Sweep.” If you pay close attention, you will see that even the most incorrigible pack rat can get rid of more stuff than he or she ever believed possible.
I’m not kidding–when you see the cleanup crew having to wear respirators because there is so much rat poop under 25 years worth of junk collected in a room, and you see what that same room looks like only two days later, it really starts to make sense.
My husband didn’t grow up poor (his parents were certainly not rich, but they were comfortably off) but his parents grew up during the Depression when “wasting food” was akin to a capital crime and “making do” was essential. Thus he was raised never to get rid of anything that was “still good” and to try to cobble things together out of what you already own rather than go out and buy a new whatever.
I *did *grow up poor, because while my parents also grew up during the Depression, they were completely insulated from the effects of it. My dad’s parents were wealthy, and my mom was isolated in Canadian boarding schools where she was primarily trained to grow up to be a rich man’s wife. Alas, my dad was a rich man’s son and went into teaching, and between the piddly salaries paid by colleges in armpit towns in the 50s and my parents’ complete incomprehension of the principles of budgeting… yeah. But although we kids did have to make do, it wasn’t my parents’ religion by any means.
So getting rid of things that are “still good” doesn’t traumatize me. In fact, I go through my closet and my dresser at least twice a year to send stuff to the Salvation Army. But just the suggestion that it’s time to clean the closet or the dresser and fill up a bag for the Salvation Army pushes my husband well beyond the bounds of civil discourse. About all I can do is suggest it and swiftly get out of his way.
When we moved from our previous rented townhouse into this house, I threw out three two-foot stacks of his magazines, all of which were a minimum of two years old. Most were older than that. I had begged him to at least *look *at them and throw out the oldest ones for more than a year. Nope. They were his technical journals and he needed to read them. Someday. I carried the lot to the dumpster when he wasn’t looking and he never knew they were gone.
I don’t like to have to do things like that.
No, just the ones he doesn’t like.
Hi, my name is The Asbestos Mango, and I’m a packrat.
Not really sure where the packrat gene in my family came from, but I think it must be at least three generations back. The only other packrat in my family is my great-aunt Madeline, who is worse than I am.
I’m getting better, though. It used to be that I would only clean out and donate or pitch unneeded and unused possessions if I was packing for a move (which, having been in and out of a very bad relationship, then stayed at the YW for about a year before moving into my own apartment) did happen every few years or so. Now, I’ll go through my stuff about twice a year, usually come up with a couple plastic grocery bags of donatables plus a kitchen-sized trash bag of pitchables. Even so, Mom and I are moving and packing has taken me about a week, just for my bedroom. A lot of my packing time is spent mulling over various items deciding if I should throw them out or if maybe, just maybe, I might use it again in the distant future. The last couple of days, I’ve been deciding, hell, if I find that I need one of these in the future, I can freaking buy a new one. I probably could have gotten packed in a couple of days if I could be ruthless and just say, “Hell, I haven’t used this in ages” and just pitch it, but I have to agonize over most of it before I toss it in the trash. Still, I did manage to get rid of three big trash bags full of crap, so I’m kind of proud of myself.
Usually, anytime I’ve moved, I’ve had to pitch out several big trash bags of stuff as I was packing, then fill another trash bag or two as I was unpacking and found myself wondering, “What the hell am I hanging onto this stupid shit for?”.
I’ll probably pitch maybe a kitchen bag of stuff after this move, but this is still the least I’ve had to pitch before a move, since I’ve been periodically going through my stuff.