I’m not a hoarder (although we can talk about that in therapy), but I have a deep, physical reaction to throwing away anything that can still be used—by me or by somebody.
It’s the same with food. I was taught to clean my plate, even if I didn’t like what was on it. When I see someone not eating perfectly good food, it just feels wrong.
Moving to a new house really highlights how much stuff one has accumulated. Every little item has to be confronted and accounted for. Take it? Dump it? Why am I still hanging on to this? Before we left Atlanta, we practically restocked our local Goodwill and added a few tons to the landfill. Yet I still have too much stuff.
After we moved in, we bought a couple of cheap-yet-functional IKEA-style cabinets and shelves to make up for the storage we lost in the move. Every box came with the necessary hardware, but each one also included a screwdriver, a hex wrench, and even a pair of gloves. I now have four brand-new screwdrivers and four new pairs of gloves sitting on my living room floor. I know I should throw them away immediately, but my brain tells me how irresponsible that would be. Why add more to a landfill when someone could use these things? Why does buying a cabinet nowadays come with an extra package of existential anxiety?
Why can’t I throw away a nine-year-old bottle of ink?
Why did I just eat that cottage cheese noodle stuff?
Why do I have every email I’ve received since the year 1996?
What’s wrong with me? I’d call my therapist for answers right this minute if I could find which box her card is in.
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