I’ve got too much crap. My house borders on being a landfill which probably means I live on the hoarder border. It is an addiction, and it’s not so much that I want to own stuff as it is an abused need to set things right. I want to be a hero to inanimate objects, and that is a problem.

When, for example, I see a table that needs some loving care, such as some wood glue, a few repaired or replaced pieces, a new finish or is just cool but …. broken, I will buy it. I bought an old rocker that had three good legs and one split leg that had so damn many nails in it (26 to be exact) that I kept the chair…. and the leg. (If I ever need an antique nail, I may know where to find one.) The chair had sat under a leaky something and suffered from water damage along the back and in the seat. I pretty much cleaned all that up, had a friend make a new leg out of oak, and then refinished the rocker. It now sits in our family room which is pitifully overcrowded with five desk, two sofas, two overstuffed chairs, a recliner, and two office chairs, a TV and stand, a book case thing made from an old ladder (another one of my misguided efforts to save something), an old trunk that I want to convert into something, and a curio full of stuff I’ve saved. Do you see what I mean?

I bought an 18 inch round beveled mirror the other day at The Salvation Army. I think it comes from the 50s. You know why I bought it? Because it was dirty and had crap crusted on it and I felt sorry for it. Yep! I felt sorry for a mirror – not because it had my reflection in it – that’s a whole different story. I bought it because the glass is thick and I can make a nice mirror top table with it. All I have to do now is find a small round table that has been mistreated and pulls at my heart strings, saying “Mr. Weird Man, will you please save me, I didn’t always look like this.” And I will buy it, find the mirror – after I’ve moved it from one place to the other five or six times – and create a nice little mirror top table. Or I won’t and the mirror will just get put out in my next garage sale this spring.

One of these days I will die and if my wife is still alive and lucid (my wife says I am driving her crazy – how damn far can that journey be?), all of my stuff will either go out on an estate type sale or will be placed into one of those large garbage skids to be taken away. I plea the 5th on any scenario that might occur if I outlive my wife. Regardless, when both my wife and I are gone, our son and daughter will bring in two large skids and empty the house. That seems like a good plan.