I kid around about having grown up being referred to as a Mafia Princess. I’m not, of course, but there have been times when I have to wonder if there may be a bit of larceny in my blood.
Most people, if they are fortunate enough to have a few coins to rub together, accumulate a lot of stuff in their lifetimes. Some accumulate more stuff than most. Others are obsessed with accumulating mountains of stuff of every kind imaginable. If you’ve ever watched American Pickers you know exactly what I mean.
There are three known drawbacks to collecting irresistible stuff that you find so fascinating that you absolutely must have it under your own roof so you may gaze on it lovingly and dust it occasionally.
I hide things from myself. Well, not deliberately. I put them away in a safe place, and then the location of the safe place is so safe that it’s safe from me as well because its whereabouts are no longer known to me.
In the passage of time, I forget whatever it was that I put in the safe place that is so safe that it’s safe from me as well because its whereabouts are no longer known to me.
I’ve been told I’m a pack rat because I never throw anything out. I dispute that. I believe pack rats know exactly what they have and where they put it, and they keep their stuff because they like it and want it. I never throw anything out because I don’t remember where I put it and don’t remember having it in the first place. Not a pack rat.
Now that we have that settled, we can move on.