It is very difficult for me to just throw something away. If I took the time to analyze my behavior, I could probably come up with some sort of explanation tied to my childhood experiences. (My mother knew more ways to use day-old bread than there were meals in a week. Apparently that gene gets passed along from mother to daughter.)

I have a collection of plastic bowls that would make my mother proud. Small oleo tubs work just fine to store paper clips and rubber bands, and they fit nicely in my computer desk drawers. There are bigger ones to be used for leftover stew, little ones to store that last dab of mashed potatoes, and large ice cream containers for storing everything from walnuts, to birdseed, to skeins of embroidery thread.

I know . . . everyone saves plastic bowls. But I have a special system for stacking the different sizes on a designated shelf, with the appropriate lids filed upright - from the smallest to the largest - in an old dish drying rack. Nothing is more frustrating than finding just the right size bowl and discovering that there is not a single lid that fits!

If certain foods don't fit easily into one of my collection of bowls, then I have a stack of reusable plastic bags that I am sure will work. Why spend all that money for those little bags that close with a touch and throw them away after just one use? They wash up easily, and the other day I even saw a cute little drying rack at the dollar store where you can hang the bags on gaily colored wooden tulips until the moisture inside evaporates. (Sure wish I'd invented that one!)

All sorts of places send me things in the mail that I cannot bear to throw away, even if I didn't order them. You wouldn't believe how many cute little address labels I have! Of course, I don't feel right about using them unless I send in a small donation to the charity in question, an act which usually results in more address labels. I now have a lifetime supply of free labels. Knowing my aversion to waste, I probably will never sell this house. I would be stuck with a bunch of labels decorated with kittens, flags, and Christmas trees that I would no longer be able to use. Even thoughts of eternal northeast winters cannot override my need to save what I might someday be able to use, as long as I overcome that idea of moving south.

All this really just scratches the surface of my collections. My attic is full of boxes of every size, shape, and color. Once again, they are all neatly stacked by type. You just never know when you are going to need to mail something. Some of my favorites - the decorated ones - have been up there for years. It's hard to give them away to just anyone, you understand.

Some items have a shorter "shelf life" than others. I do manage to recycle plain glass jars and empty cereal boxes without too much rationalization. Every few weeks I can bring myself to throw out old magazines (or give them to my manicurist for her waiting area). And the other day I found myself sorting out some old costume jewelry that had seen better days, so maybe there is hope for me yet. Except that I ended up putting it all in the attic.

Learn more about this author, Tricia.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

---

Add your voice

Know something about Humor: Observations from a bored housewife?
We want to hear your view. Write now!