One man’s trash…

I know I am a pack rat.  I attach sentimental value to everything…from the movie stub I got on my first date at age 15, to the medical bracelet I wore in the hospital when I had my son a few years ago.  I’ve got it all in boxes organized by year just waiting for someone (me?) to get the time to put it all in orderly and beautiful scrap books.  But all that pales in comparison to my husband.  He gives new meaning to the term pack rat.  In the battle for order, I’ve lost one room in the house.  His office.  If I weren’t so incredibly embarrassed of it, I’d take a picture and it would speak volumes!  This is a 10 by 20 foot room that’s only been cleaned one time in the 2 1/2 years we’ve been living in this house.  There’s a tiny 1 foot wide trail that winds through ceiling high stacks of boxes, clothes, engine parts and dvds.  Anything of his that gets left on the floor or countertop in any other part of the house gets thrown into the office by me.  I usually don’t venture even one step into the room, so I throw stuff in from the doorway.  In one tight corner there’s a desk and chair.  This is actually where he works everyday.  The chair is on rollers, although it won’t move because there are old t-shirts, papers and wires on the floor that have gotten caught up in the wheels.  I gave up on that room a long time ago.  There’s no point even trying.  I’ve gone in a few times and tried to get rid of stuff and what I found there amazed even me.  Gobbled up pieces of scribbled on papers…I assumed they were trash and tried to throw them away.  He freaked!  Apparently even trash has sentimental value to him.  “That’s the receipt from the restaurant I was at when Florida beat Florida State in 1982!“ he exclaims as if I’m crazy for even considering this is anything but a priceless treasure!  And when I picked up a broken ceramic cat obviously crafted in the 1970’s, I quickly learned about how it had sat on a shelf in his room when he was a child and his sister had broken it during some argument. 

And it’s not just sentimental items.  A few weeks ago. he caught me tossing out a pair of his underwear.  This is a pair of underwear that is only attached to the stretched out elastic waistband by about 10 threads.  He informed me as he retrieved them from the trash can that he would use them as “rags” for washing the car, wiping grease off his hands, etc. rather than see them end up in a landfill!  Only problem is, he pays good money for brand new “rags” he gets from home improvement stores.  And, mind you. I wouldn’t even want to put these old raggedy underwear on my dirty car!  Last year he blew out a flip flop…I mean totally ripped apart the piece that goes between the toes.  I picked them up to throw them away.  When he saw what I was doing, he declared loudly that they could be saved!  He was sure he could super glue the piece to the rubber sole and even though he’s an engineer, he was convinced that the glue would be strong enough to withstand the torque the flip would exert on the flop.  He was wrong, but he still has those flip flops, just in case he ever gets an identical pair and blows out another one. 

I know he may read this and say, “that’s the pot calling the kettle black!“ but I’m sincerely trying to declutter my life.  And I would love to get him on board, but I fear…it is hopeless.  These boxes of trash/priceless treasures have over the years been moved cross country three times.  Add the moving company expenses to the 3 years of storage unit charges he’s paid and these items are worth about $7,000.  Maybe they are worth something after all.