Like many New Yorkers, we of the tribe of the minimally closeted, we have a Stuff problem. Which is to say, we have too much stuff. Most of us probably have too much stuff, right? We are never quite sure why we have it (that roll of brown felt? the slightly broken wooden figurine?), which is the counterpart to to all the stuff we used to have but don’t any more, even though we can’t quite figure out where it all went.
Husband, however, has STUFF. In fact, he’s been known to tell our children not to come into the part of our apartment that serves as his office (we call it “the nest”) because it’s not safe – too much stuff, too many piles. It’s not quite “Hoarder,” but let’s just say the quantity of His STUFF is an ongoing discussion in our household.
But today, Caleb wanted to know what a lava rock looked like.
Husband said, I think I have one.
Later the same day, it appeared on the table: a gen-yoo-wine chunk o’lava, plucked from Mt. Vesuvius itself.
In the summer of 1984.
Caleb was delighted and now the rock has a prominent place of honor on his little desk, right next to his pirate treasure chest filled with Important Sticks.
It was a key victory for STUFF.
You will never, ever, win the battle against stuff again.
hmmm… wonder if you recently read the Time article about “hoarding” and it’s significance and its’ treatment??
My husband is a hoarder. In the basement, we have the receipts from his stepdaughter’s college tuition.
She is married with a baby. They are not going to repossess that degree – which was granted ten years ago.
I tell him that if his plane crashes, I am going to throw away all his junk without even looking at it.