Ten minutes of this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aAnah0l0rqk was all it took to snap me from comatose and into cleaning every dust bunny, junk drawer, and spousal mess until I was sweating.
A&E has a terribly frustrating, depressing, and motivating show called "Hoarders." It's either a homeowner's best friend or worst nightmare. In my case, it was a godsend that got me up on a day I planned to stay in bed, enveloped in my disintegrating sweats. We're celebrating our 10th anniversary together.
"Hoarders" can also be a nightmare after you're slapped in the face with the realization you or a loved one is in this same boat, collecting every bit of garbage as if it's a prized memory.
In an effort to avoid this situation where you're forced to crowd-surf over junk, I cleared our closet of Brian's excess clothing. Luckily, he does not read my blog, otherwise he would kill me -- not for embarrassing statements over his hygiene, but because he is a hoarder-in-training. Our closet is bursting with old T-shirts that are either stained, too small, or thread bare.
Don't judge me quite yet. I left all of his school football, wrestling, and baseball shirts that trigger happy memories of riding the pine pony. Living with him, I know he has a cycle of the same 10 shirts, so why not throw out the other 100 -- because Brian can't throw anything away, that's why.
Some of my stuff went, too, but unlike Brian, I don't get white-knuckled as I hold onto a mustard-stained shirt from 7th grade. Each season, I pick through my clothes, removing what won't fit and tossing it in a D.I. bag, a.k.a. a garbage sack. He was gone motorcycling for the day so I was free and clear to trash his trash with no red-faced interruptions.
His basement man-cave is starting to spread like E-bola into the other rooms. He's now marked his territory, via computer parts, in the toy-less playroom. It stacked sky-high with boxes he may need if he ships something. In four years of marriage, he's never shipped a thing. Hoarding.
Brian is going on a big paintball trip next week; that's when I'm going in for the kill … the death of his memories. Timing couldn't be more perfect, "Hoarders" starts season three next week, which will get me in a trashing mood.
