Hoarding in the Country

I think it has been a combination of several things over the past decade or so.  I have always loved crafts and do it yourself projects.  I took a special interest in sewing and one stroke painting and floral design and the list really goes on and on.

It really wasn't until a lethal combination of events occurred in the past 12 months that I really started to consider the idea that I may have a problem:  My son's wedding with all the enticing projects, being the self appointed decoration chairperson of my parents anniversary party...and the introduction of PINTEREST!

Jon will be embarrassed to find that I am spilling my guts here on my blog and admitting my serious um, problem.  Half, and that is a conservative estimate, of the basement is completely covered floor to ceiling with crafts.  Now, I don't mean junk, I mean high end craft material like cloth ribbon, strands of beaded pearls, silk flowers all there just sitting and waiting for some inspiration.   The only thing is, every time I go down there my inspiration is overcome by well, desperation.

Hence my story for today.  As I was picking up Eli from preschool I met my Mom at the stop sign by the school.  When you live in a small town this occurs quite frequently.  Anyway, we eased the two vehicles closer together, rolled down the windows in the brisk morning air and relayed our morning salutations.  I can't remember what we were talking about but my mother suddenly said, " Do you want me to come over and help you organize your craft room?".

Suddenly I was transported to the starring roll of the A & E series, Hoarders.

 All of my life long crafting supplies were on blankets and tarps and scattered across the front lawn.  A line of semi trucks with GOT JUNK printed in bright yellow letters sat idling in a line down our usually quiet country road.  Some sort of person with a PhD introduced herself to me saying her specialty was obsessive behaviour and hoarding.  All of my so called family members were standing around me in a semi circle, most of them wearing work gloves!

  I instantly saw myself sitting in a lawn chair as my family walked items past the viewing platform as if on parade.  " You can throw that away"' I dismiss with a wave of the hand.  " That bolt of material is brand new, it stays," I yell, as Aaron brings me a glass of ice cold lemonade and pats my shoulder.  I imagine Ashley scolding me, "Mom you bought all of this paint over five years ago.  It is old and none of them are any good anymore.".  I plead with her, " But I picked out all those colors, they are all mean something to me".   Tony steps in and quietly says "mom what's more important, this stuff or your family?"

I spy my Mom out of the corner of my eye.  She is the quiet strong supportive rock in my life.  I see a single tear fall from the corner of her eye.  My Dad stands with a shotgun at the corner of the road to fire warning shots should the building inspector arrive to order the house demolished.  (my imagination has a flare for the dramatic too)   Jon?  Oh he is in the back of the room (the crap room he calls it, rather than the crafts room) he is wearing a white paper suit and a breathing apparatus in case a case of spray paint spontaneously combusts, but he is hauling everything out, not even brotherly to parade it by my personal viewing stage.

"Roxanne, Roxanne"' my Mom shouts.  " There is a car behind you....move."

I came home and went straight down to the room from hell.  I stared at it. I contemplated, I planned, I plotted......

.....then I went out to lunch.