Hypocritic Oaths.
I’m the first to admit I have a hoarding problem. I’ve gotten better. Circulars are now thrown out as they arrive, instead of being kept in case I need to clean the oven and don’t have any newspaper. Every little bit counts, right?
During my hospital stay last year the Matriarch came over to help out and take care of me. Part of the duties she took upon herself (with absolutely no guidance from me, of course) was clearing out some of the junk I’d managed to accumulate. One of the first things she inquired about was the rather large collection of coffee jars I had in my pantry. “No, keep those,” I said. “I’ll need them if I decide to make jam one day.” The look on her face was worth a month in a hospital bed. She turned around and walked directly to the pantry and disposed of those jars without hesitation. She was justified in that, I can see that now. On any given day, if you asked a bookie what the odds were I’d be making jam right at that moment it would range, depending on the bookie, from “none” to “hahahahahahaha…”
Today was the beginning of another step in my quest to stop cluttering up the place with stuff I never, and will never use. I discussed my desire to clear out several kitchen appliances I don’t use with the Man of the House. I spoke eloquently of both the space it would clear up (for more stuff! Oh, wait, no) and the reluctance I felt when it came time to do the deed and turf the crap into the bin. He offered to help me, suggesting I create a list for him of the things I’d like to get rid of, if only I could bring myself to do so, and he would throw them away for me.
To avoid confusion, such as having the wrong thing thrown out (”Oh, I thought that was the grill you meant”) instead of writing a list I pulled the stuff I longed to dispose of, deep down, and placed it on the bench. The Man of the House came into the kitchen and I proudly showed off my handiwork. The Man of the House surveyed my work and nodded thoughtfully. He pointed at a couple of the items. “How about I put those in the garage. That way if you need them one day you’ll have them.”
That is exactly why I developed my collecting problem in the first place.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the fact that he was first in line to laugh at the reasoning behind my collection of coffee jars. But he was. He laughed at the coffee jars, he laughed at the plastic knives, and he laughed especially hard at the little pill pottles.
That’s rich, coming from the man who has built, using parts of long-dead computers, the Great Wall of Adelaide in our bloody carport.
Tagged: domestic inconveniences, Moral Dilemmas.