Perhaps a paradoxical title, as part of the compulsion to hoard must be a dissatisfaction one attempts to fill, but the feedback I’ve received from the “lovely hoarders” of craigslist has been overwhelmingly positive. My Ernest Hemingway lookalike hoarder will buy a laptop bag from me tomorrow, and I’ve begun offering a few former buyers some free items they might enjoy.
What surprises me (many things surprise me lately) is that I somehow had already forgotten Merl, even though he had made such an impression on me when I met him a couple of months ago. I exchanged numerous emails with him last night and it wasn’t until he described himself as an old guy with a camo boonie hat that I remembered we had already met. When I told him I remembered him he replied, “It was the ‘hairy old guy’ description that reminded you, wasn’t it.”
Well, no … it was the camo boonie and how afraid I was to meet him. And now it all seems normal. That memory was integrated seamlessly into my past, forgotten.
Every time I sell or give an item now, I automatically imagine the hoard in that person’s home. This is especially true for characters like Merl, or Deb, or Rose, or even Anushka, who have repeatedly contacted me for items. I have since learned that some of them likely resell on Ebay for profit what I’m selling so cheap here in town, but they must amass piles, whether it stays with them or is constantly renewed.
Today as I drove to meet someone who wanted to buy an item I had held on to for far too long, the mail carrier brought me another box of things I bought from the Internet. I felt dismayed with myself, even though I’m convinced we need those clothes for our trip (and they were cheap). One thing out the door, six things in: it’s unsustainable. Enough now – time to find another way to satisfy the need for things.