Hoarding

I am really a very boring person lately. I think it stems from the reno or lack of it next door and at home. It seems like it is two steps forward and a tossing of the caber back. It is also evident that hoarding stuff in "special places" is really not working for me. I am not as bad as "The Poo Lady" from Oprah, but, I think I have a lot of stuff to get rid of. My bathing suit was found in a box of wool. I had wrenched it from the clothesline at the cottage damp, and threw it in there, crossing my fingers that the orange sherbet coloured wool would not bleed onto the bathing suit. I was in a hurry, and didn't have enough time to shove it into one of my bulging suitcases. So it was found in the back laundry room. I have issues about travelling anywhere. I always have to pack a lot, depending on what occasion could crop up, or more importantly WEATHER CONDITIONS. I love to watch the Weather Network, I have a weather radio, I have books on clouds and cloud formations, I just like weather. I also like to be prepared for it. Just in case. At one time, I was a bit hysterical about the weather, tornado warnings would flash across the television screen when we lived in another crappy town, and I would scuttle my kids and husband downstairs to watch the battery operated 9 inch screen television, and have tea with condensed milk (I would boil water at any hint of a storm). We would huddle in a room underneath the stairs. You could not pay me enough to huddle down in our current basement. I found the bottle of nails that my Dad requested, it was on a shelf, in the basement. I had to wade through boxes, tools, spider webs, electronic drums, a few saxophones, boxes of vintage shot glasses, and towers of Melmac to get to the bottle, but it was accomplished, albeit in a nervous fashion. I had organized the basement last year, but, stuff happened and voila, the basement is a disaster zone. It's not a habitable basement, more like a glorified crawlspace, with a field stone foundation that has seen better days, and floor joists that just hit the top of my head. God help me if I go bald, because the scars and lumps from bashing my head will look horrendous. I think I finished painting the bathroom at the rental today, tomorrow it will be the light ballasts and a door. In the bathroom there are three mirrors. I looked up, and aloud I said, "God, I look like I am on crack", like one of those people from Intervention.