I acquire junk.
I don’t think of it as junk, not when I first order it online or grab it at a yard sale or take it for free from a table at work. But it’s true. It’s junk.
And it sits in the corners of rooms, on my desk at work, on our kitchen table at home, in our closets, until one day, both Katie and I are cleaning and we come upon something so bizarre and completely impractical that all we can do is stop and stare at it.
We both will look at each other, silently saying the following in our heads:
Katie: What is this thing and can we throw it away?
Scott: But it’s a cool unique kind of thing! Is it in the way? Maybe I might use it someday.
Katie: You’re never going to use it. It doesn’t even work/fit you/have a purpose.
Scott: Maybe I’ll use it in an art project?
Katie: You don’t do art projects.
Scott: Maybe you’ll use it in an art project?
Katie: Sigh.
Scott: I’m sorry. And ashamed.
Over the years, it really does become a bit appalling. Did I really have such an obsession with cheap/free knickknacks and fast food toys? How does one person even collect so much useless stuff? Why can’t I just throw away my old and completely outdated technology from the 1990s?
Partially laziness, partially nostalgia, partially stubbornness? Probably mostly laziness, as I don’t even particularly feel attached to most of the stuff we’ve crammed into the back of our closets.
