I Am More Than A Pack Rat. I Am Absolutely Insane

I got pictures back yesterday that I wanted to upload to my website. I got home and excitedly hooked up my scanner only to remember that when everything was erased from my hard drive, my computer’s ability to recognize my scanner went with it. In my quest to find the scanner installation disk, I found myself immersed in the artifacts of my past, a collection of artifacts so numerous, that to sort through it is an entire day’s work in and of itself. This search was completely ruining my plan of doing absolutely nothing today, and I was angry for ever having started it. Like most things however, I was easily distracted and managed to forgive myself fairly quickly. Sometimes I think my general happiness is simply a severe case of ADD.

I have this big wooden trunk where I keep everything I deem worthy of saving, although it began overflowing onto the floor of my room some time ago. When I say I keep everything, I mean EVERYTHING, and I think it’s important to make the distinction that they are all things that I deem worthy of saving, not things that any normal human being would ever want to hang on to. I am more than a pack rat. I am absolutely insane.

We all have things that have significant sentimental value to us, and I would hope that most people would hang onto those things. I certainly do. I don’t find that part strange. It’s all the other stuff I can’t seem to get rid of that has me diagnosing myself as a certified nut-job. Do I really need expired train passes and old lip gloss containers? No. Can I manage to make myself throw them away? No. Does this make me an extremely sentimental person? Maybe. Does it make me an extremely crazy person? Absolutely.

It’s not that I don’t want to save things. I don’t particularly mind having the sentimentality to want to keep everything close. The alternative certainly isn’t more appealing to me. My sister is the complete opposite of me in terms of material things, and I find it equally, if not more insane than my habitual scrap clinging. She has two daughters under the age of five and a completely clean, bare apartment, which in my experience, are always mutually exclusive. It’s not just that they have a clean home. That I could understand, although it’s still a reach with two small children, but it’s that they have nothing. I mean NOTHING, and it’s not in a poor-down-on-their-luck kind of way. It’s in a we-are-against-stuff kind of way. It’s so peculiar. Their only furniture is what they deem completely essential; three beds, a couch, a kitchen table and four chairs. That’s it. In their whole apartment. Maybe they’ve added a bookshelf or two since I was last there, if they were feeling really wild. When the kids grow tired of a toy, their parents give the toy away. When they outgrow clothes, poof they’re suddenly gone, out of all of their lives forever.

My mom still has most of my baby clothes. Hell, my mom probably has most of other people’s baby clothes. I’m certain she’s where I get my pack rat instinct from. The two of us just have stuff. We have stuff everywhere. Honestly, what is she going to do with the fifty-plus tin boxes she’s collected over the years? Or the old war pillows that are lying around all over? Or, for goodness sakes, the hundreds of old pez dispensers lined up on a counter in our back room? Who really needs all of this junk?

Well, we do. Don’t ask me why, but we do. It’s important to us. The truth is, it becomes sentimental simply because we tell ourselves it’s worth being sentimental about. We make it important. Yes, it’s a little psychotic, maybe even a lot psychotic, but these collections of things are reminders of that psychotic nature that we share. They’re reminders of who we are, even if who we are is simply a crazy mother and daughter. It’s important to remember that.

So I can’t throw anything away, oh well. It’s not the worst behavior in the world, and at least I’ll always be prepared. I have yet to find a situation where I was in desperate need for some expired train tickets and a few empty containers of lip gloss, but you can never be sure when one will suddenly show up, and I'll be ready for it because I am more than a pack rat. I am absolutely insane.