Picture this, a decorative barbed wire cactus cemented in a lovely dark green terra cotta pot. Do you have the image yet? Beautiful, huh? Not to me it wasn’t! For some reason Pete was determined to keep this ugly little decorative piece he’d acquired during his days as a bachelor. I hated it. I mean really hated it. Every time it would inch it’s way back into the house, I would banish it to the garage. Finally we made a deal, if Pete wanted to keep it, it would have to reside in the garage-in his man space. I don’t even think he really loved it either, I think it just kinda became a thing…a way to get under my skin and make him laugh.
Now, I find it funny that after he passed, that little heirloom came back to haunt me. I was in the car with my Father in Law when I found myself telling him about that cactus. Then I confessed, “I’d give anything to see that cactus again,” I said. It was true, in a strange way I actually missed it.
And then, it happened. As we prepared for our move out to the East Coast, I found it. The discovery moved me to tears and I breathed a sigh of relief. I had, had it all along.
Fast forward to today when my Dave tells me that the little hands have once again gotten ahold of his Franklin Mint motorcycle figurines (He’s really just a big kid at heart). He says something about five of them being broken beyond repair so he’s just going to throw them away and box the other ones up. A few minutes later he’s in the garage when I go out to put the beloved figurines in the trash can. He explained how it was really his fault they were broken because he never told the kids not to play with them. I then told him to consider it a blessing because now he’s being forced to get rid of the unnecessary clutter (was that cruel of me?). We both look at each other as he questions me, “A blessing?” I go on to explain how they would just be collecting dust and he would forever be worried about the kids breaking them; at least he’s being forced to get rid of some of them now. He looks at me in awe and declares, “You’re crazy, woman!” Then we both erupt in laughter.
That’s right, I’m the crazy clutter nazi. Sometimes I despise clutter, sometimes I cherish it, but one never can tell which it will be.