Wednesday, March 14, 2012


Some might call it Discardia. But, to me, that lends a certain whimsy and good intention that doesn't necessarily apply in cases like mine.

Cases where you're aware of your aversion to collections and stockpiles and accumulations of things and yet still you uncover big buckets in your garage containing six pairs of identical (except for the model year) Brooks Adrenaline GTS running shoes at various stages of exhausted wear and six pairs of worn through the fingers size small Atlas gardening gloves.

Oh my god just light me on fire already!

Apparently I have not cleaned out my potting bench since we moved to this house six years ago. Apparently it takes us moving house in order for me to stop my hoarding madness before it overtakes us both. Apparently I will run around unshod and ungloved in the event of collapse of either the Brooks or Atlas companies.

Did I mention that when I uncovered this particular gem of a character flaw I was wearing YET ANOTHER pair of Atlas gloves and YET ANOTHER pair of Brooks Adrenaline GTS running shoes?

I totally did not realize it at the time.

And that there were two other pairs of gloves in other dedicated spots and two more pairs of Adrenalines in my bedroom awaiting a run on either pavement or trails.

No, I did not mention that yet. Because I'm just, as of right now, coming to terms with my inadvertent hoarding tendencies.

Because this weekend, when I decided to join Bubba in the garage for happy hour while he waxed our skis, I got antsy, started cleaning out "my" part of the garage and then realized that, LO, I've been hoarding.

Also hoarding Willow Glen Bike Shop water bottles and climbing ropes.

I did not know this previously.

Honest! The concept of hoarding makes me nauseous! I can't even watch the previews of that show on cable because it makes me want to rip off my skin and run into a burning building for its cleansing properties!

Also, I appear to be stuck in some sort of apparel rut.

Sadly, this pile of identical running shoes and gardening gloves is only the tip of the I'm A Scary Woman Of Habit iceberg and what you're not seeing are the countless black zip-up hoodies I've worn threadbare, the Chevy's sombreros (Did you know that they're going out of business? Sad.) and other woven sun hats I've sweated into the fray,  the dozens of cheap American Eagle Antique Indigo Favorite Boyfriend jeans I've blown out or many many MANY pairs of Havaianas that have flipped their last flop on my bare feets.

I think I've gotten uncreative with my apparel, is what I'm saying, people. And, I haven't realized that despite the fact that all of these very poignant reminders are spilling out of buckets and practically in my face most of the time.

WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME? I'm hoarding and I, apparently, have a uniform for my hoarding.

Oh. You're right.


Anyway, I righted my wrongs after coming to this realization.

That bucket of running shoes is getting donated (well, the ones with any wear left in them and no mud caked to the soles), the gloves have been tied together and marked for destruction and I have my eye on the most worn pair of jeans and rattiest black hoodie, so as soon as I can get them down from the top-most shelf in my closest, I'll throw them out, too.

Though that will be tough.

Because I'm a freak who has unnatural attachments to worn our inanimate objects.

Found this guy while digging in the yard.
He now has a place of honor on the Magnet Board of Found Bullshit.

There is no end to my madness.


  1. Dude, in addition to my current in-use pair, I found three left Atlas gloves scattered about my yard, their mates nowhere to be found. So at least you have *pairs* whereas I only have *a pair* and three lefties. I need to stock up before we move to our homestead because we'll be jobless then (albeit voluntarily so) and I cannot live without my Atlas gloves.

    1. Amen to that! I like that you can buy them in bulk and that they're still cheap. I see other gloves dangling around my favorite nurseries and I just scoff at them. Pffffffft. Substandard gloves.

  2. Amen to that! I like that you can buy them in bulk and that they're still cheap. I see other gloves dangling around my favorite nurseries and I just scoff at them. Pffffffft. Substandard gloves.

  3. You ARE a hoarder. Good lord. Even I felt an anxiety attack coming on. I am the opposite- I get rid of everything. I have a hard time letting stuff accumulate. I somehow would rather give it away to clear out a shelf, even if I need it, rather than to save money by not having to buy the same thing over and over again. It's horrible and drives Matt to consider alcoholism as he works 60+ hours a week. I think he's being a clutter baby. ;)

    1. Yeah, not really sure how this happened except that I always relegate my old running shoes to being yard shoes and then BAM never threw the last pair of yard shoes away. Hence - 6 pairs of shoes.

      And, correction - WAS - a hoarder. In a small sense. Now I'm cleansed.

  4. Considering how well I know you, I am shocked. I'd never think you'd hold on to these!

    1. I do not know why I did! Except - laziness. Or the opaque nature of the bucket was obscuring my shame.

      Either way - GONE!

  5. Holy hell, we even wear the same kind of jeans! (those are practically the only kind I buy anymore.) Incidentally, I've always wondered if the "favorite" part referred to the jeans or the boyfriend. Like it might mean that those jeans used to belong to your favorite boyfriend, not that they were your favorite jeans.

    Makes me think I need to try out the Atlas gloves. Odds are I'd like them.


[2013 update: You can't comment as an anonymous person anymore. Too many douchebags were leaving bullshit SPAM comments and my inbox was getting flooded, but if you're here to comment in a real way like a real person, go to it.]

Look at you commenting, that's fun.

So, here's the thing with commenting, unless you have an email address associated with your own profile, your comment will still post, but I won't have an email address with which to reply to you personally.

Sucks, right?

Anyway, to remedy this, I usually come back to my posts and post replies in the comment field with you.

But, if you ever want to email me directly to talk about pumpkins or shoes or what it's like to spend a good part of your day Swiffering - shoot me an email to finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom.