237. Hoarders

The trash man came today. Every time I hear him pick up the cans, I get a since of panic. I panic that something has mistakenly fallen into the trash and I failed to save it.

When I was 17 my dad's live-in house keeper decided to throw out a large bag of my things. I discovered her error about 5 minutes after the trash man left. There wasn't anything I could do. The sense of loss was overwhelming.  I would never see much of my prized Cure paraphernalia ever again. I had risked my life driving 80 mph on city streets chasing down Robert Smith to get his autograph and I would never be able to show it to my kids, or ebay it later in life.

Have you seen the television program called, "Hoarders?" It is like watching a train wreck - impossible to remove your eyes from the screen. The participants on the show are on exhibition for their lack of ability to throw anything out. Their homes burgeoning with stuff, lots of stuff. Most of it useless or rotting. Yet, no matter how useless the hoarders cannot part with their junk and rot and end up facing eviction rather than throw anything out. It is easy to make yourself feel better by dismissing them as all crazy.

I am far from a hoarder. Sure our garage is embarrassing but I will blame that on my laziness and my husband - he likes to keep stuff. Honestly I would love someone to come clean out the garage. I don't remember what's in there, so I wouldn't be worried about what got thrown out. And that's the difference between hoarding and laziness. I have watched the show... I know.  A hoarder cannot let someone else clean up their stuff - it terrifies them.