If you've ever seen the show Hoarders you know that it's the most addictive thing since chocolate. You also know that watching it makes you feel significantly more secure about the massive amount of crap you cram into your home.
Now, I have no money and I live in a space that is literally 10 feet by 12 feet; this, however, won't stop me from amassing a re-donk-ulous amount of shit.
For instance, I have three pairs of scissors within arms reach and 6 chapsticks stored conveniently throughout my room.
In my defense, one pair of scissors is for cooking, another for art, and the last for everything else. The chapsticks are simply because I am really fucking lazy and refuse to change locations in order to moisturize my lips.
Another thing, I have at least twenty pairs of non-work-out pants. If not more. I wear probably 5 of them on a regular basis. This clearly makes no sense; I should donate them all right?
WRONG. I have been collecting these pants since I was a freshman in high school. The fact that most of these pants stopped fitting when I got boobs and hips, is simply besides the point. I NEED them. Several are multi-colored. This alone is a wonderful reason to keep them. Others will be perfect for when I get a boob job and become an anorexic model in Germany.
Water bottles are another thing I hold on to. This is not my fault. People tend to give water bottles out for free and how can I say "No" to free? I can't. That's how. There are four water bottles sitting on my desk next to me as I write this. One is full of water. One is very large and used for exercise; I don't know why it is here and not in my exercise bag. The dog probably put it there. I don't have a dog though. Getting one is on my to-do list. The other two function a lot like the chapsticks. I won't drink liquids if I have to move to get them. Laziness is a disease and is burning rampant through my body faster than my white blood cells can attack the virus.
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| These are white blood cells attacking a virus. Apparently this needs clarification. |
Let's move on.
I have over thirty exercise only shirts. These were also mainly free. Or from concerts/fencing tournaments. The reason I require this many is due to the fact that laundry machines are evil and I hate them. They are all out to get me, I swear. Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get you. Or however that phrase goes. Seriously, watch Homeland. That will clarify the validity of my paranoia.
Basically, anytime I do laundry I lose at least four pairs of socks, shrink one article of clothing, ruin a pair of underwear's elastic, and nothing gets properly dried. I blame the laundry machines. It is clearly entirely their fault and not my inability to sort laundry/wash things on anything, but cold (for getting out blood, duh!)/remove things from the wash that don't go into the dryer.
Also I bleed a lot and ruin clothing often. It comes from being incredibly untalented at walking. For example, I've fallen down twice today and it's not even 11am. The first fall I would like to blame on Julia. She tripped me when we played indoor soccer this morning during practice. She definitely put her foot there for me to trip over on purpose.
The second time I fell this morning was while walking up the stairs. Sometimes I get distracted by chewing gum or thinking while walking up the stairs and forget to think about where I am walking and trip. I like to think this is lucky. I fall up the stairs significantly more than down. This is a positive, because falling down the stairs is inherently more painful/destructive. For instance, last time I fell down the stairs, I fractured my arm.
This clumsiness leads me to my medicine cabinet which contains a brace or bandage for nearly every type of injury along with an incredible array of medicines, current and expired. Do I need all of this? The answer undoubtably is yes.
One thing I really don't need, however, is old magazines. Yet, I can't throw them away. I just can't. I fucking paid big bucks for those issues and I plan on keeping them for a very very long time! However, I have never looked at an issue, after reading it once, again. They just sit there in their little magazine bins on the top shelf of my desk. My argument for keeping them: what if someone is bored when they come over and want to read a magazine. However, not even I can support this argument as obviously no one is ever bored when they come to visit me. Duh.
Other things I hoard: books ( I REREAD THEM OK?!), make-up (why yes, I do still use that half full lip gloss I bought in 4th grade), nail polish (there are a ton of shades of red!!), sweatshirts (different colors and weight depending on what I'm wearing and the time of year... obviously).... and too many other things to count.
I can't help myself, ok? I have a disorder.
