My basement is loaded with wooden shelves, arranged as if you were in a supermarket or big box warehouse store. They are neatly positioned and actually marked with numbers and letters. There is an inventory book listing all the contents located at the end of aisle 1 shelf 2, level B.
I place the blame on every member of my family for storing all their “little treasures” in my basement causing me to purchase these wooden IKEA mausoleums and painfully having to organize them as if I were in some kind of” Mr. Monk is a Hoarder” episode.
Since my family denies ownership of these objects, I have decided to free up space by luring friends and neighbors to my home for a visit and then presenting them with parting gifts as they leave. They would be too embarrassed to refuse such a fine gesture and I in turn would eventually rid myself of that hideous fondue pot, in the shape of a turtle and still in mint condition the day Aunt Gertie re-gifted it to us on our wedding day. Since Aunt Gertie passed on many years ago and leaving no heirs, I can safely discard it without hurt feelings.
In all fairness to my family, I took inventory recently and noticed something. Half of the backroom stock belongs to me, actually maybe more than half.
I tend to keep things around a little too long.
When we moved into this home almost 20 years ago, I made a promise to my spouse to discard items I knew I would not use or have not “touched” in 18 months. I kept my promise (almost) and discarded a box full of unnecessary refuse. It was just a shoebox full of old wires but technically I kept my promise.
I have got to get a handle on both my hoarding and impulse buying.
I have this additional problem that overcomes me late at night and into the early morning. While many insomniacs now spend their non-sleep hours in front of a computer monitor or tablet, I use my remote and channel surf for infomercials.
My wife suspects I am up to something and sneaks downstairs at the first indication of a glowing blue light emanating from the living room. She usually busts me with remote in one hand, VISA card and telephone in the other while poised to order the gadget of the day.
I have them all, neatly stored and ready for my unsuspecting guests.
I just know there is a better cutting knife that I can use to sever a concrete block and still carve a tomato in razor- thin slices.
Every day there is a new blender-mixer-pulverizing machine that can extract all the necessary nutrients from my fruits and vegetables and produce the best tasting health drink that I can proudly serve my houseguests with or without a little nausea.
There are unopened DVD’s, easy-to-do 10 minute-a-day exercise machines, and 100’s of gizmo’s promising to make dinner without muss or fuss.
I suspect Ron Popeil may be the devil and he calls to me.
I am especially interested viewing infomercials pertaining to any health-related issue.
I have noticed a number of these dealing with the importance on keeping my “internal plumbing” clean-as-a-whistle. Almost all of them imply that when John Wayne passed, an autopsy was performed. They indicated Mr. Wayne had an enormous amount of matter remaining undigested. The claims went anywhere from the weight of a small toddler to that of a Chinese Olympic Gymnast.
How can these claims be verified, and if true how could this information ever have been released and why should it?
Mr. Wayne, I am upset for you. I am certain if Big John Wayne were here today he would clobber any weenie making such a claim, mainly because it is nobody's business. John Wayne (regardless of any opinion you may have formulated due to his political beliefs), was considered a straight-shooter, forthright and honest.
Of course in this day and age his directness and honesty would be rewarded by a publisher removing his book, losing any sponsorship from gutless corporations, no more movie deals ever, and all the major television networks and news organizations would demonize him.
That’s a tough road for being forthright and honest.
Just ask Paula Dean.