A Mystery Wrapped in an Enigma Shrouded in Tupperware

****Please be advised that I just snorted what I hope was the recommended dosage of Robitussin straight from the bottle shortly before writing this.  In my defense, I'm the only one who uses that particular bottle of Robitussin, and I was too lazy to find the dosage cup.  Or a spoon.  And yes, it did take me 38 seconds to remember what a spoon was.  What's it to you?


I am many things.  I am the multitudes.  I am a woman who is bright and fun and giving.

I am also a latent hoarder.

Not big time.  Not all the time.  Not for all things.  But it is there.  It's in my genes [thanks, Mom! and Dad's side of the family!] and I see it pop up in the most unexpected of places.

For example:

I save all kinds of little bits of food.  Bravo, right?  Way to stay ecologically and environmentally and monetarily sound.  Saving every bit of food is just smart, right? Right.

Except.

Except I have a tendency to save even those things that no one, not even me, is going to use or eat again.  I know I should, and I know I could, and I know it's not like the food is bad, but sometimes it wasn't delicious, but I feel bad getting rid of it.  Even though we barely managed to choke it down the first time. 

So I put it in the fridge, all of it.  In tiny little storage containers - which they wouldn't make unless you needed to save tiny little bits of food, right?  I don't know who I think is going to eat this food, but I save it anyway.  I save it for weeks, sometimes, to the point where it has adhered to the storage container through cold fusion and I have to throw both of them away.

It's like I'm waiting for a spot inspection to be a winner in the Savings Race; or maybe tiny hobos are going to show up and I'll need to feed them [why I'd feed them something gross is beyond me]; or I need to keep the fridge full at all times, and inedible leftovers work just as well as actual food.

Also:

I'm a Piler.  I pile.  I pile up magazines; mail that I need to sort through; paperwork that I need to take care of; coupons; glasses; notebooks; and, inexplicably, random bits of flotsam that were in my purse and I haven't quite had the energy to put into the trash.

I'll sort through stuff, periodically.  And I'll get rid of things.  Some things.  But mostly what I do is re-organize.  I'll get file folders and manila folders and designate areas of bookshelves as magazine spots.  But I seldom throw stuff away, because I may need it later.  Actually, mainly because I don't have the energy to figure out what to do with it and I'm afraid that if I say fuck it, and toss it, it'll be that vitally important thing that we needed and how dumb was I to get rid of it?  DUMBIEST DUMB, that's how dumb.

I tell you this to ask your help.  No, not to get on some t.v. show or for the name of a good, free therapist.  But to explain how, when I have not left the house in 2.5 days, and I barely left the bed in that time, did I lose $85 from my desk.  The husband gave me $300 for food purchasing for the next few weeks.  Plus another $100 from his parents for a special dinner [v. generous, yes?  I should birth out another grandchild for that.].  $315 is accounted for.  $85? NO FUCKING IDEA WHERE IT IS.  None.

I haven't gone anywhere.  The desk didn't go anywhere.  The cats aren't walking around with new fur coats or diamond collars.  I'm at a loss.

I blame the tiny hobos.  I knew saving that nasty food was a bad idea.