The Not Throwing Things Away Disorder
Heard of it? Otherwise known as hoarding? Well the Rasmussens seem to have a genetic predisposition toward this delightful habit. I won't name any names, but I've witnessed a few out of control basements. Used to have one ourselves, until Wayne hired the super dumpster that supposedly they go through and properly recycle the non-garbage. Hmm, either I can believe him or suspect he may have said that just to allay my objections to his tendency toward what he calls "Republican Recycling." Not a term flattering to his political party of choice, but I hear it a lot around here. In Germany, though, to their credit that's not really an option. Because as I've blogged about before, the garbage cans they pick up every other week are miniscule compared to the Bio (composting material) and cardboard ones. So, anyhow, I digress. I headed down to our storage room to hunt, once again, for the MacLaren stroller organizer to hang from the handle of the awesome UppaBaby stroller we've now switched to using as G has grown out of her infant car seat (that we stuck in a Graco frame). We had so many empty boxes in there further cluttering the room, that having put G down for a nap, I decided to break them down for recycling. Success, I found the stroller organizer! As well as cables for the satellite box we still hope to receive German TV on, halves of 3 sock pairs of Wayne's that I was apparently going to throw out. Why?? The last time I did that, I found, a few years later, the match for a sock I really didn't want to part with, but did in the name of not succuming to The-Not-Throwing-Things-Disorder. See what feeds the disorder? It ALWAYS happens that I finally strip away my natural inclinations and get rid of something that would be considered ridiculous to hang onto and a few months later, low and behold, I NEED it. No joke, then I kick myself mentally over and over for throwing it away, and the cycle goes one. But, I married a Thrower Away. Extreme on that side of the spectrum, much to my chagrin. I married a I'll Buy That, Find It Doesn't Work Out For My Purposes But Not Save The Receipt And Return It guy. Drives me crazy. At least I've found the wonder that is RamsteinYardSales.com. I currently have 15 items up for sale, have only gotten e-mails from prospective buyers about one of them, and have bought countless things already for Greta and this big house that we live in a host many guests in, but still I'll sing the praises of that local military-style craig's list. Also down there in the basement I found the pole that is supposed to attach to paint rollers, but bent hence becoming useless not far into our paining-the-big-room project. It was in a big box of saranwrappy stuff and cardboard recycling stuff. My Rasmussen gene kicked in and I said to myself, "this could be useful for something sometime, though I don't know what that might be, so I'll save it." Then my rational, I'm not gonna succum to that demon kicked in and I chuckled at myself and was about to throw it away, when I realized it was the perfect Garbage Pusher Downer. You know? I'd been putting packing paper in the recycling bin and needed to make room for more, so I really needed a way to get that stuff down. So, now you know our dirty little secret.
