THERE IS SOMETHING ABOUT JUNK … MY JUNK TREASURE … A GARAGE FULL OF IT!
I salivate when I see immaculate kitchens, bedrooms and living spaces. It feels like gouging a calorie laden cake… intensely gratifying but at the back of your mind you know that it is going to settle on your hips and not on the female bumps you desperately want them to make a home in.
I LIKE MY GARAGE FULL OF JUNK TREASURES … IN ORIGINAL PACKAGING WITH A PROMISE TO ADORN MY MANTLEPIECE ONE DAY.
I walk through display homes where not a stitch is out of place. Everything has a designated place in the jigsaw landscape of the room. Not a pan out of place. Not a speck of dust in this pristine environment.
MY NEED TO CLUTTER HAS ME TRIPPING OVER MOUNDS OF ‘MOTIVATIONAL-ARTICLES-TO-BE-READ-WHEN-I-HAVE-THE-TIME-ONE-DAY’.
This is an unfathomable mystery to the MOTH (man of the house). How can I be meticulous as a person and also completely disarrayed? My answer has and always will be clear as day. I am a woman and a cauldron of opposites. The statement “Look how I love you and we are at the opposite ends of the spectrum”, draws a sigh from the MOTH as he throws in the towel and admits defeat in our verbal stoush. Ironically the music on the radio I am woman hear me roar (if you toouuuucccch my junk treasure) fills the room.
For a moment I imagine a house with no junk treasure. What if my house was immaculate and at liberty to feature on the pages of plush magazines? What if … I push the thought aside as I am not ready to sacrifice moments of joy regurgitating mementos from my past. Finger paintings made by my kids as 5 year olds, handmade wooden plaques professing their love with “Greatest mum in the World” and tear jerking birthday cards written by my teenagers means more to me than having a neat and tidy home. Kids … they make you so sentimental!
Now there are exceptions to this rule but my vanity will not have me admit defeat in this much publicised stoush. What about the pink lace shirt that I promise to fit into one day even though I need a safety pin to bridge the yawning gap of the buttons? What about the black sandals with steel high heels that could be a life saving weapon—if I am ever stuck in an elevator! What about the favourite lipstick that has a millimetre left as the brand has stopped manufacturing the shade—how inconsiderate of them? They are all sitting as dusty treasures not ready to be recycled. I will let you in on a secret. I could probably get rid of them but I need to find a good home. I am so attached to them as they have been a part of my life for so long. I would be betraying them if I just unceremoniously dumped them.
What is the answer? Should I start a Blog to ask what people usually do under the circumstance or would a postal vote be more appropriate? Being a democratic society I should probably have a tea party, invite all my friends, ask for their opinion and ceremoniously get rid of my junk treasures.
On second thoughts, what if I want to reminisce? The look of joy on my teenage grandchildren’s face when they look at a framed picture of their dad’s paintings done as a baby would be priceless. Would my teenage granddaughter wear my pink lace shirt as a vintage gift from me, her grandmother? Trading a priceless gift of tomorrow for a clean house of today is blasphemy. It would be akin to trading a house for a home. A home made of bricks and mortar is ordinary. A home made of touchy feely objects that takes you down memory lane is one that lives and breathes forever. Home is where the heart and junk treasure is. The MOTH agrees to disagree.