First of all, I am not trying to make light of hoarding. I understand it’s very real. My boyfriend Bobby is what I call a potential hoarder. He’s just a girlfriend away from being a hoarder, because if it wasn’t for me I’m pretty sure he would be a full-fledged hoarder. As it is now, he has what I call the “hoarder’s room.” He calls it his studio. And the more stuff he holds onto, the more he loses.

Here’s an actual conversation I had with Bobby the other day:

Him: Have you seen a metal box that looks like this one? I can’t find it.
Me: That’s kind of big to lose… how did you lose it?
Him: I was moving things around so I could find the four screws that I lost.
Me: Well, did you find the screws?
Him: No, they’re pretty small. I think I need to use my glasses. Have you seen my glasses?

See, he thinks that he has to hold on to every little thing, because there may come a time in the future when he will need just that very thing. The problem is, there is so much in his “studio” that when he needs the thing, it’s nowhere to be found. Oh, it’s somewhere, but he’ll lose six other things trying to find the one.

Every once in a while, when nobody is looking, I’ll sneak into the room and get rid of something. Like the big bag of old remotes. Really? You need to save a big bag of old tv remotes when we don’t even have the TVs anymore? And since there’s so much in there, he doesn’t even notice.

Someday that room will be a real studio with guitars on the wall and cool studio-like things, and maybe a fold out couch for guests. But in the meantime, it’s the hoarder’s room, and I’m thankful we only have one. As long as you don’t count the garage that has no room for my car. But that’s another story for another day.

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