My basement

My basement is turning into a bit of a warren.  I know that you will be shocked beyond belief to hear that I am, indeed, a bit of a packrat wont to save many items that probably I shouldn’t. BUT!  The problem is that as soon as you get rid of something, you find that you wish you hadn’t.  You JUST NEVER KNOW when you might need that extra bit of clothesline or when you might finally decide to again wear that XXL Taylor logo sweatshirt that you bought when you wore XXL clothes because it was THE THING TO DO all those many a few years ago.  In fact, only last week I rescued a carpet remnant that I had finally thrown away after MONTHS and used it to balance some furniture. So. See?

Anyway. Basement. Yes.  Full of boxes.  Just boxes. They are empty. They do not, for the most part, contain things.  They just sit there, at the ready, for the moment when we are going to move again.

Because you see, I have been conditioned, programed by all that moving that I did for all those 10 years of married life before, long ago, those distant, house-free, baby-free, care-free years.  And so I collect boxes in my basement. Just in case.  In fact, of course we will move again someday. That is a given, I am sure. Why I need to save empty boxes from my last move and from EVERY SINGLE BLESSED TIME I BUY SOMETHING THAT COMES IN A BOX in my basement for some future, undisclosed time when we will move again when I could probably recycle them and get more  when I need them I do not know. 

It is my weakness, my collecting of boxes, and I thought you should just know so that, if you ever come to my house, and I don’t invited you down to my basement, you will know the reason why: the basement runneth over with empty cardboard boxes.

No Lie



1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Trackback: Purge « Dreams you got it, happy

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