I walked into my mother’s house somewhat tired after flying across the country with my two children. The temperature was a cool 101 degrees, approximately the same temperature as my hot tub at home in Utah. It’s ok, I had equipped myself for the visit by reading a book that stressed the concept of being present, maintaining calm and clearing the mind. I was to be a spiritual warrior in the battlefield of my mother’s home. There isn’t a land mine I couldn’t clear.
Until I used the upstairs bathroom and spied a facecloth from my youth hanging on the towel rack. You might wonder how I could possibly know a face cloth was the same one I used years ago, don’t they all look alike? In the realm of most people’s normalcy, this is the case, however my mother went through a peculiar phase in the late sixties/early seventies where she bought fabric to make facecloths. Yes, made them. The fabric she used is representative of its time, the early 70’s. It features a large black and white sixties looking flower springing forth from an ocean blue background. So I am quite certain it is the same face cloth. By my crude calculations I estimate it to be 35 years old. It is made of cotton. It must have been Egyptian cotton because it has defied every rule of textile logic since ancient times. When I inquire as to why this historical relic is still in use in her 21st century home, my mother insists she only uses it to dry the dog. At this point, I tell her it should be a tapestry and she might want to consider donating it to the local textile museum.
Breathe, be calm, relax I remind myself. I am going to be a good daughter; I will focus on the present. I proceed downstairs to the small phone table cluttered with pens, random lists on the backside of envelopes, paperclips, and screws to look for a phone book. I need a phone book to locate the nearest pharmacy as I’ve forgotten some toiletries. I wasn’t searching for land mines, honest. As I lift the phone book, a mass of papers fall to the ground. It is a huge pile of Bed Bath and Beyond coupons for 20% off. I count them. 25 coupons. The irony of this situation slaps me in the face. The woman who has a 35 year-old facecloth (I’m sure she has more than one) also has two years worth of Bed Bath and Beyond coupons just waiting to be used. How does one reconcile this bizarre behavior?
I’m not sure what she is waiting for. Armageddon? In a short tour of the house I can find at least 100 things she needs from BBB. I know this is the Yankee mentality that has embedded itself in her gene pool. I know she can’t help it. I have fought it as well, but logic and time have led me to lead a much more clutter free life.
She simply can’t throw anything away. Everything has a use. At some point in the future, it will be useful to someone or for something. It took me years to get her to donate things to people in need. There is a ritual before this actually takes place. First, the object goes through an agonizing trial to determine its value in the home. When it is determined to be absolutely worthless, the thing tries its luck at a tag sale. Then, if none of her friends want/need the item and it hasn’t perished from rejection, it finds itself at long lost in the pile for the veterans. An item that lost its value 10 years ago, goes through another 2 years of purgatory in the overstuffed garage before it finds a good home with a new owner. Or by this time, even the poorest of the poor have upgraded to the new model and have no need for the ancient item and it goes to the dump.
The other issue we regularly debate (I use this term in the loosest of fashions) is her shredder. Every piece of mail that has her name on it, every receipt that she has for anything she buys (via credit or cash) goes through the shredder. There is some grounding for her paranoia; her husband was a victim of identify theft about 8 years ago. I can pretty much guarantee it didn’t happen from a piece of mail pilfered from her trash. I point out that if someone wants her address they can merely look in the phone book, they don’t need to rifle through her garbage or recycling. I also point out that a purchase made with cash has no record of her name or personal information.
My mother is too kind. This is ultimately the problem. She can’t say no, she can’t part with things. She has stray cats and dogs. She has random plants that people have given her when they move that she doesn’t need, like or have room for. Her intentions can’t be faulted, which makes it all the more difficult for me to accomplish my task of trying to change her ways. My goals too are not selfish or unrealistic. I feel she would lead a happier, less entangled lifestyle if she were to get rid of the old, the unwanted, free up physical and psychological space. Simplify. At this point, I fear the only thing she wants to get rid of is probably me, I wouldn't even have the luxury of going to the veterans, she would send me straight to the dump.
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