Pack rat the sequel.. pack rattier

I am not a pack rat/hoarder.

I am NOT a pack rat/hoarder.

I am absolutely, positively, unequivocally NOT  a pack rat/hoarder.

I've seen them.

Been in their homes and cars.

I am NOT....

(Clearing my throat now) 

My name is Karen and I'm the biggest freakin' hoarder in the county, the worst kind, the kind that's in constant  denial.

Part II.

Remember that blog I posted just  a few weeks ago upon my return from a Cancun vacation, when I described all the miniature soap and shampoos and used razor blades in the hidden compartments of my expensive luggage? About how I tried to find them  permanent housing in the hall closet, but that was  bursting with dental floss and unidentifiable toiletries?

That closet could have been reorganized by Martha Stewart herself.  That luggage could have been vacuumed by Felix Unger, and I'd still be in desperate need of a twelve step program.

For Pack/Rat Hoarders.

It all started with a forty five inch flat screen  Samsung TV, that was retrieved from somebody's TRASH about a decade ago.

(not by us) 

 I loved that little TV, even with the tiny vertical red  line that would always be there.

It was my rescue TV.  I gave it a home.  Attention. And lots of love.

And it turned on me when we were streaming "Dream Scenario" as I said to Jim, "I know this is a weird movie about weird dreams, but why is absolutely EVERYTHING in weird  shades of blue and gold? "

He convinced me it was time..time to put it down(yeah..right..like we could put anything down or up or sideways that weighed more than the two of us together) and  he comes home from Best Buy today with something new and  bright and shiny.

"The thing is," he says, "this Fire TV (by Insignia) was a bargain, but it doesn't really have anything to stand on, and stands were like..two hundred dollars.."

"We spent that on lunch!!  OMG!!"

He then adds:  "Let's just move the white coffee table from the living room to the den.  No one uses it.  It only collects magazines..and remote controls..and bills.."

"And dust" I add. 

So, because both of us are still in denial about our pack rat habit, (for Jim, it's cables, cords, and wires.  For me, it's..absolutely freaking everything!!) we had no idea what was in store..what was in storage..for us.

While he did the heavy lifting, moving around bulky furniture, I decided to tackle the three stuffed to the gills  white wicker bins stacked neatly below the white, useless coffee table.

You have never in your life seen anything like this. I'm still shocked that we didn't uncover a kitchen sink. A nest of baby eagles.  Jimmy Hoffa. 

Each bin took about an hour to unload, as we bore the scrapes and cuts from old, rotting wicker. I'm an amateur caricature artist at best(I never captured a single likeness.  All my models look exactly alike) but I probably had thirty sketchbooks in there.  Three dozen boxes of colored pencils. Glue bottles that gave you a contact high by looking at them.  Inkless markers bound together by disintegrated rubber bands.  Piles and piles and piles of dead board games, with more missing pieces than useful ones.

Warranties. Guarantees.  Packaging from a variety of teas.

Sure..there was lots of treasures too..A poem  ten year old Evan wrote about the New York Yankees, personalized party invitations I drew that made me feel like I was the loving, creative Mom I didn't really believe I was...a really awesome Scavenger Hunt we put together for Evan's eighth birthday.

But among the treasures(that we've consolidated into a single bin) was a LOT of trash. Please, friends and family, I appreciate the sentiment, but next time there's something to celebrate, send me the acknowledgment in a text.  I have saved every single card for every single occasion.  I think an entire forest died because foolish people still like me and the U.S. postal system..

As of this moment, we have made great progress.  I am not the pack rack/hoarder I was less than twelve hours ago...I am free, and determined to stay that way.

Because if I find ONE more pair of scissors..!!

I have no idea what I'll DO  with them, but it won't be pretty.

We rewarded our hard work with a goofy matinee, a formulaic sitcom called "Anyone But You" and..move over, Carey Mulligan and Emma Stone and Lily Gladstone and  Sandra Huller..we've got a new front runner for Best Actress, because Sydney Sweeney was ..in a word..spectacular.

No.

No she was not.

She was dreadful, but let's see how accurate YOUR movie review would be if you spent YOUR morning sniffing bottles of expired glue??

Don't even get me started on the kitchen junk drawer.

Literally.

Don't get me started.