Tag Archives: too much stuff

Sensory overload and a naked man.

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We found a very, how shall I say? ….unique antique store last week.

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It was an old Victorian house with elaborate overgrown gardens and more stuff than I have ever seen crammed into one place at one time.

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Yes, even more than my husband has in our basement. And trust me, that’s saying something.

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It was a veritable jam packed maze with room after room of … stuff.

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Advertised as an antique store, it was also filled with arts, crafts and assorted holiday decorations.

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I’m hoping the hand was for Halloween.

I really am.

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We had a long conversation with the owner who astoundingly told us it only took him 10 years to fill the place. Honestly? It could take a person that long just to go through it.

He also reiterated what my husband heard at the flea market. No one is buying. Anything. Lots of dealers are calling it quits.

Proof positive there is such a thing as too much stuff.

We discovered he lives upstairs and he told us that area is just as heavily populated with his personal collections. The mind boggles.

As we were leaving my husband said that made sense because he thought he saw a naked man on the balcony when we walked in.

Whaaat!

How do you not lead with that observation?

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Be careful what you wish for.

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It’s long been a dream of mine to see … no, not Istanbul or Rome, I’m a simple girl. I only want to see the cellar floor again.

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When we moved into this house 20 years ago we had a gloriously empty 2,000 square foot basement… and I had visions of carefully organized storage shelves so our closets would never burst open again. Sadly this never came to fruition because my husband filled it to the brim with crap, clutter, things he didn’t need and will never use stuff in no time flat. And when I say filled, I mean up to the rafters with barely a path from front to rear. I haven’t seen the floor in years.

So when the husband retired a few months ago and had lots of spare time on his hands, I did what any thoughtful wife would do and subtly suggested now would be a good time to go through his mess, useless junk, rubble treasure once and for all.

But as my title says, I should have been careful what I wished for. Because as I suggested, my husband started sifting though his massive piles of detritus below ground.

The problem is…. it all began to float upstairs.

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Now? There’s a World War II poster/map on my den reading chair.

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There are railroad cars on my kitchen counter.

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There are boxes, bags and assorted dreck on my office floor.

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As well as stamps and a broken clock on my auxiliary desk. So basically, it’s everywhere… and I fear for the future of our living space.

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Because if all that makes it’s way upstairs? I may end up sleeping on that newly cleared cellar floor.

🥴