Pack-rats, backpacks, and purses

Posted by houndrat on Monday Feb 11, 2008 Under family life

If you’ve read even one of my blog posts, you probably know by now that I’m unorganized.? And? a procrastinator.? But what I’ve failed to mention is that I’m also a pack-rat.? Yep.? That’s correct.? I’m a hoarder.? In fact, I like to think of hoarding as? the? big red cherry on top of? a colossal sundae of other bad habits.? Because hoarding really is the mother of all vices.? It’s not for the faint of heart.

For example, my husband likes to rag on me (where? the heck? did that term come from, by the way?) endlessly about the motley collection of backpacks I had in the garage, leftovers from my physical therapy school days.? I just couldn’t part with them.? My attachment might have been okay, had said satchels been organized, in any sense of the word.? But of course, since these backpacks belonged to yours truly, organization was about as likely of an occurrence as Brad Pitt stopping by to take down our Christmas lights and plant a money tree in our front yard.?

See, instead of putting my papers in a binder, like any normal human over the age of four might do, I just stuffed everything in the backpack willy-nilly.? Crumpled papers? would randomly escape every time I opened one of the darn things.? Why do I use the plural?? Because, since I had no organizational system to speak of in the form of a notebook, my backpack became the notebook.? Except nothing was stored in any particular order, and locating a certain set of notes was always a project of mammoth proportions.? Without binders, my backpack was my only means for keeping papers together.? A filing system of sorts, if you’ll allow me to? stretch the term a bit (picture Gumby here). ? So, every semester, I would just procure a new backpack, and start the carnage all over again.? As you can imagine, my friends at school gave me loads of grief over my so-called? “system”, but alas, they couldn’t save me. In fact, they actually presented me with the very last backpack I defiled during my PT school days.? Touching, isn’t it?

Anyway, my husband would periodically ask me to throw away my backpacks, but it was out of the question.? What if I needed? one of those crumpled, impossible-to-find notes on some obscure neurological disease at a later juncture in my career?? As I said—I am a hoarder, and the basic law of hoarding is that there exists a potential future purpose for any and all items you own.? Therefore, you cannot be expected to part with any of them.? Or at least, said purpose exists in the hoarder’s brain.? Which? must? be a fascinating and? truly frightening? organ to behold.

By the way, the reason I’m referring to my backpacks (all 6 of them) in the past tense?? Well, if you read the post on our garage and rats, you’d know why.? ? Essentially, they met a fitting end.

In case you think I’m exaggerating about the extent of my pack-rattiness (along with the degree to which I’m organizationally-challenged), check out these photos of my purse.? This is essentially how it looks on a daily basis.?

Exhibit A:? So far, the purse looks innocuous enough, albeit a little large.

Exhibit B:? Maybe not? quite so? innocuous, but not too terrible (okay, so maybe it looks pretty terrible? to you, but to me?? This is the way a purse is supposed to look—well-used).

Exhibit C:? Now we’re starting to get a real gander into the depths of my depravity.? Yes, all that crap really came out of one purse.

Exhibit D:? Yep, that much crap can actually fit in one purse.? Amazing, isn’t it?

But check out some of the crucial stuff in there—Hot Wheels cars, the homeopathic remedy that’s been mouldering away in there since last spring, the mildewy cereal bits, a half-eaten cereal bar and the Darth Vader figure.? Because you never know when someone might whip out their light saber? (okay, that sounded worse than intended).? Oh, yeah, and the Rhodesian Ridgeback pin from a dog function I attended in 2002.? That one’s a bit of a mystery, seeing as I haven’t even? owned the purse that long.? (Do you have to ask why my purses wear out faster than a nympho-maniacal crack whore?? ? I didn’t think so.)

Exhibit E:? Just a quick peek at the assorted yummies left on the bottom of my purse, along with ten pounds of change.? Gee, I wonder if that’s why my left shoulder is utterly deformed??

What can I say?? I like to make sure my purses earn their keep.

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