Things

Things. Such a short word, and yet it causes so much trouble.

I have been told that every family has its drama; I have never heard of (or experienced) disharmonious family matters which did not, at the end of the day, have something to do with things. Things someone at a time worked hard for and got hold of and which somebody else now wants.

When I was really young I was told by a very wise, old man, that when I grew up I should not collect or hoard things just to show off how much stuff I could gather. I should focus on owning things that meant something to me. Things I needed. Things which for some reason I felt would stand out. It is not the number of things which will show your wealth or fortune: It is their significance.

Because, you see: things bring worries. Houses i.e. must be looked after: maintenance, cleaning, upgrading… it all adds time consuming effort of thinking through, problem solving, choices on colors, shapes, quality,  prices…

I have to admit I really enjoy the esthetic beauty most things display, I admire the innovating processes and the craftsmanship behind the thing, and I understand why it is such a joy to possess a chosen item. But… I am good at not wanting a lot of displayed stuff around me and in the house.

To be dead honest: I am not a good housewife. I do not dust every week, my plants are half withered before I remember to water them, I never check if there is oil or flushing medium on the car; A car shall work: I insert and turn the key and off I go. Everything else I leave to others to do. Not having a lot of stuff makes it easier to clean the house and when I die there will nothing to fight over.

Still, In my house we have a couple of types of things which are… suppose I should be honest enough to say they are out of hand. I do not have storage rooms, you see. I had this idea that what I do not use I do not want to keep… except a few folders with my kids’ drawings, things they create and make from toiletpaperrolls at school, folders with recipes on food I will never make and clothes I will never knit or sew.

It seems like as if we have an endless amount of toys. All kinds of toys and a lot of it. They seem to float all over the place: lego in the sofa, footballs in the kitchen, table tennis bats  in the bathroom, action figures on the hallway floor. I hesitate to do much else than to pick it up and bring it back to where it is supposed to be placed and sorted into boxes with same kind of toys. (I have a lot of really clever storage bins, but for some strange reason I fill them up constantly, and they are always nearly empty.)

Cars, lego, pokemon figures, miniature animals, musical toy instruments, costumes… everything has its own box (-es). It is funny how I think my kids watch way too much TV, and yet they play with something… or at least bring toys with them, at all times.

I do not really collect, but I have a lot of hobby articles. Fabrics, jarn, buttons, zippers, pearls, stones, glue with and without glitter, all kinds of paint, canvas, drawing paper, wires, string, all kinds of pencils, felt pens… you name it: I got it. I always plan to get to use it all, you see, and then I never get the time and next time I see a stamp I picture being used on a really great looking personal greeting card I buy it and add it to the continuously growing stack of bits and pieces just laying around looking like junk. I am not proud of it as yet, but one day it will miraculously turn into dazzling arts and crafts. Maybe. It will.

Now, that I am thinking about it, I have way too much of a lot of stuff. Not items tastefully displayed to decorate the rooms, just stuff. In addition to toys and hobby articles I have shoes, laundry, stacks of books and boxes of things I at one time knew what was… like hardware accessories belonging to something I got rid of 8 years ago, but in case I didn’t get rid of it anyway I keep it… still don’t know what it is for, just keeping it in case I need it…