Hoarders

You know the cable channel, "A & E"?  Along with playing repeats of my favorite show, Criminal Minds, they also have shows about people with addictions.  You know, drugs, alcohol, shopping, gambling, OCD, other compulsions, and hoarding.  Something like pack-ratism to the 1,000,000th degree. 
I feel kinda bad for these 70-80 year olds who have some sort of mental instability that makes them not throw ANYTHING away for years upon years, and then they cry and have meltdowns when A & E comes dashing in offering counseling in exchange for a clutter free fresh start.

Then there are the cat ladies.  They are just nasty.  Poop and pee all throughout the house.  G-R-O-S-S.

What am I getting at you wonder?  Let's just say that Ryan isn't too far off the mark when he says that I am a beginning hoarder.  I for some reason find a reason to save things.  Clothes that are a few sizes too small that I might "someday" wear again.  Happy Meal toys that Cameran might play with once she is over age three.  Cards. Like all cards that I have ever gotten.  It goes on and on.

Anyway, we are getting new shelving for our walk-in closet to make our bedroom less cluttered and more organized.  The in-between process involved moving piles and piles of clothes and whatchamacallits onto the bed, into the baby's room, into the computer room and all over our bedroom floor.  Needless to say it looks like an upstairs explosion.  We actually had to sleep downstairs on the sofa and recliner the first night because the closet wasn't finished and the bed was covered in no less than a three foot tall pile o'clothes. 

Fast forward to the next day and the bed got cleared off.  Now it's time to clear the rest, and do it correctly the first time.  Piles o' crap: Be gone!