Clutter, Clutter, Clutter by Dianne

We have all heard it..clutter is a bad thing..in our homes, our lives, our minds...I am..here and now..coming out of my 'clutter closet'. It's an insidious virus that has completely taken over every waking and sleeping moment of my life. The noise in my head keeps me awake at night and makes it nearly impossible to function during most days. I'm not proud of this. As a matter of fact, I'm completely and totally embarrassed to say it..I'm furious that I have not done enough to stop this from happening. My knees go weak at the thought of opening the closet and seeing organization..spaces between hangers..shoes lined up IN PAIRS..belts and scarves neatly arranged. My heart skips a beat at the anticipation of not having to wear a helmet to protect myself from falling objects when I open my cupboards. And my basement..what can I say..I actually get tears in my eyes dreaming of the day I can go down the steps without tripping over something..have the space, once I make it to the bottom of the steps, to actually 'swing a cat' ..my cat..any cat..I don't care..I WANT TO SWING A CAT !!!!! I don't want to see little spidey webby thingys hanging in every corner (anything with more than four legs scares the crap out of me..and I'm too old to out run whatever it might be). Climbing over the clutter to get to the little spidey webby thingys takes a younger and more agile body than I can conjure up. Now I can get to the root of my problem..Lets call him 'Steve'..don't get me wrong..I was not always like this. In the past I have been the GoodWill and Salvation Army's best friend..but that was before my 'Problem' decided to retire..all of a sudden every thing he has is valuable..a collectors item..worth a small fortune.. I have hidden things in the garbage bag..under the coffee grounds..next to the smelly meat wrappers ..behind the banana peels. These things..broken flower pots..lamps that have no cords..empty boxes..are all..as we speak..lined up neatly in his shop. Row after row..displayed proudly as if there is a "Ye Olde Antique Shoppe" sign hanging over the door. He says he is doing it for me and some day I will appreciate all the effort he has put forth in this endeavor. I say "What the H#*L are you talking about??? He replys, "When I'm gone, you can have an auction and the money you make will take care of you for the rest of your life" I answer, "So, your telling me that you don't expect me to last more than one day?? I'll be lucky if I make enough to cover the cost of the dumpster I'm going to have to hire to haul away all that crap away!!!" Thinking I had made a pretty valid point, I sat with a smug look on my face..comfy in the knowledge that he understood the fraility of his plan..looking out the window, what do I see??? You guessed it..there he is..going through the garbag bag..sorting out the 'valuables'..looking out for my future..what can I say?? The only solution left is either accepting it, or, mouse traps..YES..I will buy dozens of mouse traps.. because the only thing that scares me more than anything with more than four legs is the thought of an auction.