Sometimes I write letters to Ellen DeGeneres. No particular reason. Just because I can.
I’m a pack rat. I have the worst time getting rid of stuff. Granted, I’m not a hoarder, but getting rid of things like baby clothes is hard for me. My husband, on the other hand, loves spring cleaning. He does it year round. The fact that I never want to get rid of anything gets under his skin. The good news is, we always seem to come to a compromise. For every one thing he gets to toss, I get to keep 15 other things.
Earlier today, Christmas came early for my husband. I was going through old sippy cups – the kind with the straws. Most of them had missing parts – specifically the straws that we tossed out because they were filled with gunk. I removed a couple from the cupboard and then asked my husband, “Would you mind if I tossed these into the recycle bin?” Our kids don’t really use them anymore. They’ve graduated to those plastic, fast food style cups with straws that you can buy at the Dollar store.
His eyes lit up. “Heck no! Here let me help you!”
Before I knew it, our counter was filled with all kinds of stuff: old water bottles, training cups you use to teach kids how to drink without a spout or a straw and a few other items. His excitement must have blinded him because I noticed a few things on our counter that weren’t meant for recycling – like our cats, who were confused as to why they were being placed on the counter when we normally chase them off.
Scratching my head, I turned to my husband and said, “Honey, I’m going to have to put my foot down on a few of these items.”
Disappointment turned his smile upside down. “Like what?”
I pursed my lips. “Well, like the blender….and the crock-pot. Those things still get used.”
He sighed from relief. “Oh right.” He chuckled. “I was just checking to see if you were paying attention.”
Right. I’m sure that’s exactly what he was doing.
No cats – real or imagined – were put into the recycling bin.
We’ve gotten to the point with “stuff” that if something new comes in to the house something else gets donated or recycled out. Unless my wife disagrees of course…
I can’t toss anything – not sure what that’s about, but it’s true. I think it’s a hold over from having parents who grew up during the depression (the first one, not the one we’re coming out of), and who couldn’t toss a thing. In fact, I was recently complaining about my closet bars not being strong enough, oh, sorry, this is your blog. Never mind.
No worries! I love reading your comments!
Binge watch a whole afternoon of Hoarders. You’ll be throwing away furniture in no time.
I love when I get the smallest sliver of hope of being able to throw stuff away. You better believe I take every advantage.
You had me chuckling again. I’m glad the cats got to stay. I determine a section of a room to be “thinned”, take it all out of it’s cubby, put half of it back, and two weeks later take 2/3 of it out and toss it. Slow analysis morphs into “just get it out of the house”. Hubs is not keen and so his stuff is packed in boxes and hidden to even see if he notices 😀 The animals are off limits at least most days.
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