THE SECRET LIFE OF A HOARDER

“If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign? – Albert Einstein

“A clean desk is a sign of a cluttered desk drawer.” – Mark Twain

“If your company has a clean-desk policy, the company is nuts and you’re nuts to stay there” – Tom Peters

The Secret Life of A Hoarder

It is half way through February of a new year, and I have been in a self-imposed exile for a while. Sorry, dear readers, but I needed the quarantine after 2 weeks of the flu and then the 2 snows that came. I needed to do something productive and I did. . . and am still on task. I am DE-CLUTTERING, and I can assure you that Heracles had it easy cleansing the Augean Stables compared to someone like me who is wading through a lifetime of stuff and memories.

Oh, the things we save. I believe it defines us and I can readily avow that I am defining my life as I go. I am finding that I am a bibliophile, a crafter, a joiner and a person who treasures her memories. I can also admit, to my great shame, that I am a complete mess. For years I have been holding onto to books and craft supplies, and programs for various associations and jibs of paper because I am afraid to let them go. I hope that you have fared better in your life than I. I wish for you all a clean desk, no piles of detritus, empty wastebaskets and a feeling of superiority.

I, on the other hand, have a full desk and entire “craft” room and must de-clutter at least a bit or my family will be cursing my bad habits long after I am gone. Fear not when I mention my demise as I think I will probably be forced to live for another 20 years driven by shame. It will take at least that long to rid myself of the stacks I have accumulated.

“What? (You might ask) “is so important that one hangs onto it for decades?” I can only answer, the feeble answer of the offending "clutter bug." I first have drawings from my daughter and granddaughter—years of drawings, and scribbles and decorative foam cutouts pasted on sheets of paper and sweet little notes that state “I love you.” I can’t bring back those years but to touch the paper that those little hands held and through the sheer act of remembering, I am there once again. I am back in time.

And so it goes with all my various stacks. Some of them apply to me alone. I was very involved with my college and my neighborhood and the local history center. I still have flyers announcing events, and fund appeals and letters and emails I sent out in my various offices held through many years. In this area I see myself as a true historian, preserving the things I did. When I go through those stacks I feel somewhat uplifted. I see the things I accomplished for those organizations to raise money, or announce events I had helped plan, or zoning issues I helped with to save my wonderful neighborhood. It is indeed a gem of a neighborhood and I had a small hand in the events. I feel like that little girl in the old Shake ‘n Bake commercial who says, “it’s Shake ‘n Bake, and I helped.” I also feel that if all this is gone, so am I and my deeds. Did I truly exist? Did I ever do anything worthwhile? What many see as “clutter” by its very existence is proof of my whole life and its efforts.

Sometimes people like me get labeled as just what we are—messy. We are known to hoard this clutter to the abhorrence of the clean freaks. BUT once in a great while we come in handy because we have just the piece of paper, the email, the entry on our calendars we kept that can actually save the day. My neighborhood is a case in point. I have several boxes of items that folks were going to throw away, and I kept—you know, just in case. Well, that day came. We were being asked by the State just when we established our neighborhood and did we have proof of the land deeded to us by a former neighbor (we had been paying taxes on it, but needed proof of his bequeathing it to us.) I consulted my “files” and lo and behold found actual forms and documents we filed with the State that made us legal. Who says all clutter is trash?

I know I am justifying a bad thing, but I have decided I just can’t help it. I want some of these things kept at least until I die. Perhaps what I need to do is simply “organize”--there’s a word the clean people just LOVE. Perhaps if I just put everything in NOTEBOOKS, with a notebook clearly labeled for each LIFE AREA (removing all envelopes, unnecessary inserts, etc.) it will look neater and I can FOOL the rascals. They will walk into my room and see a plethora of notebooks and sing my praises because I was such a prolific “do-er” and neat organizer. They never have to know that there are many little jibs of paper cut out by the little hands of my daughter and granddaughter bearing those precious markings and doodles that I JUST COULD NOT LIVE WITHOUT!!!