A week or so ago, a fellow blogger was talking about cleaning, and how she tends to keep things out of guilt, allowing sentiment to exist when there is no rational basis for it. It got me thinking: I do the same thing. But I take it a step beyond.
Example: I have box after box of cards I’ve been given–all the way back to my high school graduation. Now, granted, they are all shoved into attractive, matching faux-leather containers, so they aren’t presenting a clutter problem, but WHY?? I have crayons and ink pens and playing cards that I got as gifts when my age was a single digit. WHY??
On some level, I know it’s silly to keep such things. I’ve even brought myself to toss most of them at one time or another. That card from Great Aunt Sally that marked my birthday five years ago? It was on top of the trash can until I pictured old Sally searching the aisles of Hallmark for the PERFECT card to send me, then cheerfully dropping it into the mailbox, content in the knowledge that it would bring a smile to my face. How can I toss something that Aunt Sally put such effort into for little ole me? And the answer is, I CAN’T! Does that mean I’m nuts?
I also tend to personify inanimate objects. When I trade a car, I’ve caught myself, days later, picturing the trade-in huddled on the used car lot wondering what it did to deserve being kicked out of it’s nice warm garage. Angry that it had carried me so many miles only to be thrown over for a newer and faster model. Does that make me certifiable? Probably not, plenty of people give their cars names, which is sort of the same thing, right?
But I do the same thing, to a lesser degree, whenever I think it’s time to toss an old souvenir, stocking stuffer, or trinket. And the longer these items stick around, the worse it gets. That stamped leather wallet, brought back from the Smokey Mountains years ago by a well meaning relative? (I don’t even recall which one!) It’s been relegated to the “TOSS” pile a half dozen times, but then I picture the poor, tacky thing pleading “Why? After ALL these years?” Does that qualify me for a week’s stay in a padded room?
I guess I’m just a sentimental fool…