The Problem with ‘Hoarders’
I am not a hoarder, I chuck, I recycle, I donate, I trade, I borrow, I generally try and keep things from piling up and getting overwhelming. Evan is a bit more on the hoarder side but it’s more laziness than need to collect anything other than comic books, though he is more inclined to buy useless shit that sits in our closet – why hellllloooo concert posters – I digress.
Every once and a while I get a bee in my bonnet and I have the need to purge the house of every damn little thing that we don’t need. It is good, therapeutic even and of course cleansing and all those good things that come from lightening your mental load of crap. Seriously junk weighs on my mind. It makes me feel slow and panicky.
The last time came right on the heels of Fable being born. Part nesting, part purging it was a frenetic affair that has now come to bite me in the ass.
I got rid of Ben’s first toque….
A little blue beanie that he got at the hospital and wore for the first two months of his life. It was December, a cold bitter winter and being as tiny as he was he needed that hat day and night. The day we retired it was bittersweet. That hat and the preemie onesies he lived in. He was sooooooooo tiny. Anyways, I still have one of the onesies but the hat is gone.
I am pretty sure it got purged with the rest of the preemie clothes I had. Sent mercilessly to the Sally-Ann in a fit of ‘oh my god no more crap’ I don’t know if you know this but baby stuff is similar to gremlins in it’s ability to multiply. So whatever you do, don’t get it wet, never feed it after midnight and remember sunlight doesn’t kill them (although it does fade poop stains). The quickest and easiest way to deal with it is to find a friend in need and quietly drop it off on their doorstep in the middle of the night.
Last night turned out ugly.
If you know me you might know that I don’t deal with this sort of thing well. There was much gnashing of teeth and weeping because overreacting to something like this is pretty much standard operating procedure around here. I’ll admit I even blamed Evan because he could have stopped the crazy (as if) or you know double checked my discards. God forbid or he’d find out that I get rid of his stuff too.
But the hat is gone and my heart is broken. I feel horrible, I don’t keep very many things for sentimental reasons so this is just the worst thing especially since I am still postpartum hormonal crazy. I know I have to get over it. A friend on twitter reminded me that I have pictures and memories and of course the kid who wore it. So I will focus on that while I mourn a teeny-tiny bit of blue wool.