I have a lot of stuff. Heaps of junk. Vast quantities of paraphernalia. Piles of possessions. My place is crammed full of books, music, toys, art… and most every item has a fun story attached to it. Occasionally I long to live in a well lit white walled extremely sparse minimal space but most of the time I find comfort in having my vast quantity of odd possessions around me.
Typically I do not think about how vast the collection of stuff is. When you see it every day it all just kind of fades into the background until some new guest shows up at the house and starts asking for details about everything in a slightly overwhelmed tone. Questions like “where did you get a lamp shaped like a bust of Elvis?”, “do you ever actually play that William Shatner record hanging on the wall?” , “is that Menudo doll supposed to be Ricky Martin?” or “why is there a mannequin head on your shelf next to the Baccarat crystal?” (By the way, the answers are “a junk shop in Washington Court House Ohio”, “ yes his version of Lucy In The Sky is priceless”, “no, it is Roy my friend burned the Ricky doll’s head off 20 years ago” and “it’s a very long story but in short since this old possession was returned to me at my wedding I felt it needed a place of prominence to be displayed.”
The other time I notice just how much stuff I actually have is when I find myself packing it all for a move. That is usually when I will have a mini-crisis of sorts dealing with my pack-rat tendencies. I find myself asking no one in particular “why am I keeping this Laverne and Shirley board game”, “will I ever really reread that Thomas Pynchon book?” or “why do I have over 15 record albums by the Chipmunks?” I am perfectly content holding on to these things when it is not moving time but when I see box after box of packed unnecessary items I often find myself introspectively asking is my life better because I have these items under my roof? And even more importantly, while moving to a bigger place might temporarily ease the crowdedness and clutter level, will I just make the problem worse by eventually filling up a new larger living space.
My wife is of no help with this issue because she is as bad as me. Occasionally we go through things and toss, donate or give away a pile of stuff. Unfortunately we both sometimes have an issue just throwing out things that we perceive to still have value. The other day I sold two bags of books and CDs to a resale bookstore and only got $16 for the lot of it. That was less then I paid for the included Davis Foster Wallace book alone. A rational person would tell me that ‘at least it is out of the house’, but I still am having second thoughts about the received compensation not exceeding my perceived value of just keeping the stuff.
I guess I am sensitive to the saving issue because my Dad’s way of cleaning when things felt too cluttered was to just throw stuff away. My brother still bemoans the fact that my Father arbitrarily threw out all his old comics and baseball cards from the 50s and 60s without need or cause. He was just in cleaning mode that day; a cleaning mode that sent thousands of dollars of collectables to the Fresh Kills Landfill.
In an effort to overcome this feeling of just throwing money away, my wife and I have started an E-Bay box with items that we will feel better selling for any profit verses just giving away. This giant E-bay box has been sitting around for over a year without a single serious attempt to post an item. I am not sure what price I might get for my ‘Watergate Coloring Book’ and ‘Mrs. Miller records’ but it can’t hurt to find out. Even if the price is right, I am just not sure if I can part with my Menudo doll. I guess there is room for Roy at the new place, if I ever get around to finishing up all the packing.
Typically I do not think about how vast the collection of stuff is. When you see it every day it all just kind of fades into the background until some new guest shows up at the house and starts asking for details about everything in a slightly overwhelmed tone. Questions like “where did you get a lamp shaped like a bust of Elvis?”, “do you ever actually play that William Shatner record hanging on the wall?” , “is that Menudo doll supposed to be Ricky Martin?” or “why is there a mannequin head on your shelf next to the Baccarat crystal?” (By the way, the answers are “a junk shop in Washington Court House Ohio”, “ yes his version of Lucy In The Sky is priceless”, “no, it is Roy my friend burned the Ricky doll’s head off 20 years ago” and “it’s a very long story but in short since this old possession was returned to me at my wedding I felt it needed a place of prominence to be displayed.”
The other time I notice just how much stuff I actually have is when I find myself packing it all for a move. That is usually when I will have a mini-crisis of sorts dealing with my pack-rat tendencies. I find myself asking no one in particular “why am I keeping this Laverne and Shirley board game”, “will I ever really reread that Thomas Pynchon book?” or “why do I have over 15 record albums by the Chipmunks?” I am perfectly content holding on to these things when it is not moving time but when I see box after box of packed unnecessary items I often find myself introspectively asking is my life better because I have these items under my roof? And even more importantly, while moving to a bigger place might temporarily ease the crowdedness and clutter level, will I just make the problem worse by eventually filling up a new larger living space.
My wife is of no help with this issue because she is as bad as me. Occasionally we go through things and toss, donate or give away a pile of stuff. Unfortunately we both sometimes have an issue just throwing out things that we perceive to still have value. The other day I sold two bags of books and CDs to a resale bookstore and only got $16 for the lot of it. That was less then I paid for the included Davis Foster Wallace book alone. A rational person would tell me that ‘at least it is out of the house’, but I still am having second thoughts about the received compensation not exceeding my perceived value of just keeping the stuff.
I guess I am sensitive to the saving issue because my Dad’s way of cleaning when things felt too cluttered was to just throw stuff away. My brother still bemoans the fact that my Father arbitrarily threw out all his old comics and baseball cards from the 50s and 60s without need or cause. He was just in cleaning mode that day; a cleaning mode that sent thousands of dollars of collectables to the Fresh Kills Landfill.
In an effort to overcome this feeling of just throwing money away, my wife and I have started an E-Bay box with items that we will feel better selling for any profit verses just giving away. This giant E-bay box has been sitting around for over a year without a single serious attempt to post an item. I am not sure what price I might get for my ‘Watergate Coloring Book’ and ‘Mrs. Miller records’ but it can’t hurt to find out. Even if the price is right, I am just not sure if I can part with my Menudo doll. I guess there is room for Roy at the new place, if I ever get around to finishing up all the packing.
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