Hoarder – or Hero?
I have learned that there is a very fine line between hoarding and being prepared. Maybe they cover this in Boy Scouts. I don’t know. Since I’m not a boy. And I have never been any type of scout. Scouting implies, to me, finding your way around. And that is definitely not one of my strengths.
Anyway, my husband and I often have arguments about what should be thrown away. Pretty much 95% of what he owns – according to me. Nothing ever – according to Cap’n Firepants.
I can honestly say that I have never regretted anything I’ve deliberately thrown away. (Accidental disposals do not count. I did not intend to throw my engagement ring in the garbage; it slipped off of my finger.) Despite this stellar track record, however, the Cap’n rarely listens to my advice. And trust me, I give it to him often.
Here is the most recent example: We can’t use our old dog bowls on the new concrete floors because the rubber on the bottom counteracts with the stain in the floor. The Cap’n bought new ones. I had almost released the old ones into the garbage can when the Cap’n said, “Wait!”
I looked down at the dingy, slobber-covered bowls in my hand, and looked back at him.
“Tell me one thing you plan to use these for in the next year,” I challenged.
He was silent. Into the garbage went the bowls.
That night, I looked up at our kitchen ceiling fan. One of the blades had split in half. To me, this was an opportunity. I’ve hated that ugly fan since we moved in. It’s in a dumb place, and it’s, well, hideous. I pointed out the broken fan blade to the Cap’n.
He looked up. “I can fix that,” he said.
“How?” I said, doubtfully. I pictured Dimples’ Skull and Crossbones duct tape adorning our fan. Which might actually be an improvement.
“I have replacement blades.”
“From the fans we took down in the other rooms. I kept the blades.”
He KEPT THE BLADES OF THE FANS WE HATED SO MUCH THAT WE TOOK THEM DOWN – “just in case”. And now there was a case.
I hate it when hoarding comes in handy.