Confessions of a Junkaholic


Tonight's bedtime stories came from Shel Silverstein's, Where the Sidewalk Ends. One of my all- time favorites that my Dad used to read to me, and that I now enjoy reading to my own girls. It's probably safe to say that we all have our favorites, I know I do. Tonight however, I stumbled upon one in particular that spoke to me, and if you are reading this blog, it most likely speaks to you in one way or another as well. So humor me for a moment while I share a little about myself...grrr, I mean...Hector the Collector Hector the Collector Collected bits of string, Collected dolls with broken heads And rusty bells that would not ring. Pieces out of picture puzzles, Bent-up nails and ice-cream sticks, Twists of wires, worn-out tires, Paper bags and broken bricks. Old chipped vases, half shoelaces, Gatlin' guns that wouldn't shoot, Leaky boats that wouldn't float And stopped-up horns that wouldn't toot. Butter knives that had no handles, Copper keys that fit no locks, Rings that were too small for fingers, Dried-up leaves and patched-up socks. Worn-out belts that had no buckles, 'Lectric trains that had no tracks, Airplane models, broken bottles, Three-legged chairs and cups with cracks. Hector the Collector Loved these things with all his soul- Loved them more than shining diamonds, Loved them more than glistenin' gold. Hector called to all the people, "Come and share my treasure trunk!" And all the silly sightless people Came and looked...and called it junk. What is most funny to me is that I am pretty sure I actually have some of the same treasures as Hector! Shhh, don't tell my husband, he doesn't need anymore reasons to tease me and call me the dreaded "H" word (and I am not talking about Hector here). So tell me, does anyone you know make hoarding jokes about your "junking" habits?