Sunday, September 11, 2005
I love my Mom.

I hate clutter. My mother - may she live until Moshiach arrives - is a pack rat. The stuff in her house, G-d in heaven! How long its been there, I'll never know. Stuff she never uses. The worst part is that it's just a big mess. Her refrigerator is filled with more food than mine has for a family of 5. And she lives alone! She has tons of plastic containers in her garage, haphazardly perched on shelves and tables. Clothes like you can't believe, closets and closets of them. Body care products collecting dust on her bathroom counter. I think her tendency towards hoarding things is what turned me into such a neat freak. I love to tidy up the house, to get rid of things, to organize. My form of relaxation is reading the IKEA catalogue, dreaming of ways to create more seder in my life. I secretly want to have a garage sale at mom's house. You think I'm kidding? I have it all planned out! She lives right across the street from a big Catholic church, which is very busy on Sundays. Perfect time for a garage sale! I'd put signs near the church to funnel all the worshippers to my clearinghouse event. I would have a big sign on mom's lawn; "10% of all garage sale proceeds go to charity." The Catholics would LOVE that! Then I'd sell everything away. All the cookbooks from 1973, all the clothes and lotions, all the empty margarine containers. GONE. Lest you think I am making fun of my mother (or Catholics), I assure you I am not. I'm just describing her penchant to hang on to things. Forever.


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My Photo Name: Fancy Schmancy Anxiety Maven
Location: Chutz l'aretz - Outside of Brooklyn

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