The Secret Life of Hoarders…

Oh, wait, it was secret until someone figured out how to make money via reality TV …

For all those who have been wounded in the past by my not-so-subtle opinions regarding fashionable wardrobes and how many Xbox games do you really need, I’m here with full disclosure to aide you in making fun of me.

I cleaned my garage today.


For those of you wondering why, exactly, I’m in the domain usually reserved for Hubby Stuff, I will inform you I currently live in a  stylish modern town home with perfectly landscaped vistas of green, green grass.

Translation: I live in a home with hundred’s of square feet dedicated to space for clothes and entertainment electronics, a kitchen only a bachelor who doesn’t know how to boil water (but who does know how to order take-out) could love and a back yard that is not friendly to gardening projects.

Hence, my numerous 22+ quart stockpots, seven crockpots, hundreds of canning jars, thirteen 5-gallon buckets of corn and wheat, food-saver bags filled with various other beans and grains, fermenting crocks, carboys to someday make my own bouza and mead in, along with bottles to put such delicacies in, drying screen fabrication supplies, three dehydrators and two freezers to hold my proudly purchased-direct-from-the rancher pork and-beef, homemade sauces, soups and broths….they all reside in the garage.

The garage also holds the numerous plant containers I received from a retired nursery owner, empty 2-liter jugs for future wick-watering systems, domed trays for starting seedlings, seeds and several #10 cans, washed and ready for me to convert into solar cookers….someday….

I again faced the fact: I’m a hoarder.


It’s not that I purposely try to collect junk.   I just can’t bear not to be prepared should I someday wake up with enough energy to do all the thousand and one things I’d like to.

My craft room has been ‘cleaned and organized’ about 5 times, and still, I have way more supplies than I’ll probably use this lifetime.  Even my 27 Barbies can only wear one outfit at a time and I admit, their protests at being seen in the same outfit, day after day, usually do not reach my ears.

I also have two quilts in various stages of being completed.   Being a procrastinating soul, I didn’t start quite early enough for last Christmas and am shocked and dismayed to discover Christmas is once more right around the corner…where did the year go?  And will they be completed in time for the 2010 Holiday Season?


It’s not all my fault.   Loving friends and relatives, who follow my various enthusiasms, show their loyalty by forwarding ‘useables’ to me when they are cleaning out their own garages and storage units.

Meaning I’ve become the repository for old newspapers (lasagna gardening and worm-composter feed), old phone books (same) and anything else they think they can sneak into my house.  Including a hand-full of long but narrow springs. What, exactly, they are for, I know not.

I kept them anyways.  You never know what you might need…

Lucky me, they also tend to clean out their bookshelves.   Which means I either have additions to my library or a generous credit at the local used book store…


I’ve been informed that hoarding occurs because of psychological imbalance – a collection of ‘stuff’ is distraction or tranquilization against some fear.

My garage says I fear future food shortages.

My craft room says I’m afraid Barbie doesn’t have enough dressy clothes.

My bookcase says I will know How-To, if ever I quit reading long enough to actually Do…


My desire to make useful that which is seen as trash often clashes with my secret desire to live in surroundings made neat and orderly…by someone else…

Since the someone else usually does not appear to clean up after me, periodically, I must neaten and organize the growing pile of stuff…

I sincerely hope I never have to evacuate my residence in a hurry…

It would simply kill me to leave behind that much food and we all know Barbie ain’t going to lift a finger to help me carry it…

One thought on “The Secret Life of Hoarders…”

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