My Book Bub* find this week: Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things. The prologue kicks off with a doozy—Homer and Langley Collyer, two eccentric New Yorkers who made headlines in 1947. When they died, workers hauled 170 tons of junk out of their brownstone, including an early X-ray machine, a Model T Ford, the remains of a two-headed fetus, and 14 grand pianos.
Extreme? Absolutely. But the author estimates that somewhere between six and 15 million Americans are hoarders. Some fixate on benign and somewhat clean stuff: newspapers or clothes. Others, like one Manhattan man, forage through street garbage to stockpile random treasures.
So naturally, I started wondering—am I at risk?
Until we lived in our new, smaller apartment I used to collect pictures I liked that I cut out of calendars and magazines. I framed some of them. The pile was pretty tall and unorganized, just a stack of pages. Oh no, was I turning into a hoarder?
Not with clothes! My wardrobe leans the other way—I still wear a green indoor jacket I’ve had for 30 years. If you visit during the day, odds are it’s on. My shoes? Some are older than Mick Jagger (just kidding).
Fabric, though—that’s another story. I sew and at one point I had a shelf, well maybe two shelves, of fabric, all earmarked for grand projects: jackets, tops, napkins. Did I ever make them? Nope. A friend gave me two yards of leftover pillow fabric. I loved the fabric and wanted to make something out of it – eventually. Eventually never came. So that’s almost the same as buying clothes and not wearing them. Except in my mind keeping fabric I never used is different than buying clothes I never wear. I’d have to actually work to turn them into something useful as opposed to just putting the clothes on my body.
But I have downsized! Most of the fabric is gone, though I couldn’t part with a candy corn print meant for Halloween napkins. Cute, unique, and totally impractical. Never mind that I’ve never had a Halloween party or dinner. Never mind that I’d also have to buy four spools of black thread for my serger and I’d only use 1/100 of the thread. Never mind that I use my serger so infrequently it takes me days to figure out how to thread it. My decision-making process went along the lines it’s, cute, it’s unique, I’ll never find anything else like it, and it doesn’t take much space. And just like that, the hoarding mindset creeps in.
That’s the trap. Hoarders focus on the positives of acquiring stuff, not the hassle of storing and managing it. They also misjudge an item’s actual usefulness. Case in point: I never asked myself, “How useful are candy corn napkins?” or “How often do I really use my serger?” Don’t I already have over 20 sets of napkins (downsized from an even bigger collection before I moved)?
Thank goodness for e-books and digital magazines. Otherwise, I might be buried under stacks of reading material. Between my Kindle and Nook apps, I’ve amassed over 700 books since 2010. Have I read them all? Don’t ask. But at least they don’t fill my home floor to ceiling. I once visited a friend whose husband had waist-high book piles with narrow walking paths. The kicker? He found the book he was looking for right away; “Let’s see. I think it’s in this pile. Oh, here it is!”
I’m only two-thirds through Stuff, and it’s already nudging me to purge. I attacked my closet and wrestled together a donation pile—tough going because, like every hoarder, I kept thinking, "But I might need it later!"
Christmas ornaments are my one true collection, but they get a free pass since they stay hidden for 11 months. Still, when a friend helped decorate my tree this year, she thought my ornament stash was excessive. (Translation: she wanted to be done faster.)
And let’s talk kitchen gadgets. Our kitchen cabinets are packed, one hall closet is stuffed, and even our oven stores baking sheets and cooling racks. Which is ridiculous because we cook dinner just once a week. But every time I get rid of something, I inevitably need it.
To curb the madness, I struck a deal with my neighbors—before buying any kitchen gizmo, I’ll check with them first. Recently, I needed a sifter for cookies. Two neighbors came up empty, so I caved and bought one. In hindsight, I should’ve picked a different recipe. Duh.
So I promise myself to go through the kitchen supplies and toss things I haven’t used in a while. Does anyone need cake pans? Muffin tins? Palm tree cookie cutters? And while I’m at it – candy corn fabric?
* BookBub.com, a free service that offers great deals on books. I get an email every day listing several books for $1.99 or $2.99. At least electronic book hoarding fits on a tablet.
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