Stuff in a Time Machine
This post was written in 1997 shortly after I moved into the home where I still live. It was an examination of my tendency to accumulate things, an area of my life that has seen some modest, not drastic improvement in the last three decades.
I know George Carlin has beaten me to the punch, but I want to make some comments about stuff. You know stuff. It's what you bring back from Wal-Mart. Some stuff is necessary. Too much stuff is disgusting.
I am disgusting. I am also not alone.
It is impossible to drive five minutes in any direction in this town without encountering a self-storage establishment. These ubiquitous businesses are normally painted bright orange or some other attractive color. I'm thinking about trying to establish a partnership with Wal-Mart. My idea would allow consumers to call up the store, order some stuff and have it delivered directly to their self-storage unit. Think about it. Folks could add to their stuff collections without having to put down the remote control. I'd even offer a discount for additional units to hold additional stuff.
Not wanting to be a hypocrite, I've examined my home for signs of excessive, unused stuff. There are at least four primary areas where my ownership of certain items is a mark of shame. These areas are (in no particular order): kitchen cabinets, bookshelves, music collections, and clothes closets. None of the stuff came with the house. I know because I only recently moved in, and I know the house was empty before I did so.
I was sitting by my unlit fireplace last night when my eyes wandered over to the wooden used artillery shell case which serves as the holder for my compact disc collection. Periodically I join one of those mail order music clubs which promise you 11 CDs for a penny with nothing more to buy, ever. With such a variety of music to choose from, I invariably decide to expand my musical horizons by selecting several CDs from artists and groups I've never previously listened to that much. My logic is that if I have the CDs, I'll listen to them. My logic is wrong. I'm probably not going to develop the same taste as Anna, my 11-year-old daughter (SHE IS NOW 39) but I do have a CD called "Dookie" by a group called Green Day that she assures me is way cool. I also have 5 CDs from a Scottish group called the Chieftains who sound like camels on heroin eating feather dusters.(I LATER BECAME A CHIEFTAINS FAN AND NOW APPRECIATE THEIR MUSIC) I've got bagpipe music (now that's relaxing), Cajun Zydeco, too many Rod Stewart CDs, and on and on. Why do I keep on buying new music when I don't listen to what I already have?
Now let's go look in the kitchen cabinets. I know that at least three of my relatives (brother, father, uncle) have homemade salad dressings and pepper vinegar that my wife and I made and gave away in decorative bottles for Christmas still sitting around. It's only April, you say. I'm talking Christmas 1994. Get the picture? When I get in the mood to look at some really old kitchen stuff, I usually have to go no further than the spice cabinet. I get in the mood to do some exotic cooking. The recipe calls for a spice I don't currently have in stock (something like Chinese 5 spice or ginger root) so I go to the store and spend 5 bucks to get a bottle. Then I never make the recipe again. 10 years later. I still got that little bottle sitting in the spice rack of its 6th house.
I have a car. I live within driving distance of the library. I have a library card. Why do I ever buy any books other than reference books? I've been going to the same used bookstore for 20 years.(I WENT TO IT FOR 20 MORE YEARS UNTIL IT SADLY CLOSED) Do I have some sort of compulsive disorder causing me to decorate my home with expensive bookshelves filled with lovely tattered used paperback detective novels. Maybe I secretly hate trees. I do know that when I get a notion to read something, I do not go to my lovely bookshelves to find some intellectual food. No, I leave my house and go get more books. I even get suckered in by book clubs (three different ones currently). Then there are those lovely installment series. I've got about four or five of those. Just call me Mr. Time-Life. I have books I have never read and never will. I still have manuals for MS-DOS 5.0. Books are heavy. Ask my cousin, John. He moves them for me every couple of years.
Clothes closets are among the worst places to find stuff. I, like most people, have a few favorite shirts, a few favorite slacks, some sentimental T-shirts. I would be ashamed to count the different items of clothing I actually own. Why don't I give away an item for every item I buy to conserve space and promote recycling? Why? You tell me.
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