"I blame Grandpa's Magical Toys" my mother said, "That's why you're a hoarder."
My mother is referring to a video I loved when I was a kid. It was one of those movies for kids that went directly to video and looked like it was shot on some Canadian soundstage for about eight dollars.
I loved it.
In the movie, every time someone leaves Grandpa's Magical Toy Shop, the toys come alive and interact with each other. (That's right Toy Story, I'm well aware you plagiarized a bad 80's kid's video.)
My mom recently decided that there was a connection between "Grandpa's Magical Toys" and the fact that I have trouble throwing out anything that ever meant anything to me.
The term hoarder is a little strong, since my refrigerator doesn't have an ecosystem inside of it and there aren't any raccoons living in my garage, but I do develop the occasional unreasonable attachment to something.
For example, when I drove over to my mom's house and found my old rocking horse outside near the trash, I nearly screamed "Rosebud!" and fainted.
"It's because you think it comes to life when you're not looking," my mother explained, when I told her she couldn't throw out the horse, which was made out of plastic and couldn't be said to "rock" anymore--at this point it was more like a "flinging" horse.
Hmm, I thought, maybe my Mom is onto something.
Was it ingrained in my head as a child that everything has an inner spirit and soul? Is that why it's hard to look at my Hee-Man action figure and not feel that it's homicide to simply throw him in the trash?
Does that mean with the success of the most recent Toy Story movie that little children everywhere will be developing hoarding tendencies?
"Either that you're just crazy," my mother said, as she was throwing my baby booties in a garbage bag. It's not just that she was raised not to be sentimental, but more than that, to have utter disdain for anybody who is. I guess when you grow up without a lot of money you compensate for it by putting as little value as possible into material possessions.
As much as I can admire that, I still grabbed the booties from her.
"Call me crazy," I said, "And by the way, where is that tape?"
My mother is referring to a video I loved when I was a kid. It was one of those movies for kids that went directly to video and looked like it was shot on some Canadian soundstage for about eight dollars.
I loved it.
In the movie, every time someone leaves Grandpa's Magical Toy Shop, the toys come alive and interact with each other. (That's right Toy Story, I'm well aware you plagiarized a bad 80's kid's video.)
My mom recently decided that there was a connection between "Grandpa's Magical Toys" and the fact that I have trouble throwing out anything that ever meant anything to me.
The term hoarder is a little strong, since my refrigerator doesn't have an ecosystem inside of it and there aren't any raccoons living in my garage, but I do develop the occasional unreasonable attachment to something.
For example, when I drove over to my mom's house and found my old rocking horse outside near the trash, I nearly screamed "Rosebud!" and fainted.
"It's because you think it comes to life when you're not looking," my mother explained, when I told her she couldn't throw out the horse, which was made out of plastic and couldn't be said to "rock" anymore--at this point it was more like a "flinging" horse.
Hmm, I thought, maybe my Mom is onto something.
Was it ingrained in my head as a child that everything has an inner spirit and soul? Is that why it's hard to look at my Hee-Man action figure and not feel that it's homicide to simply throw him in the trash?
Does that mean with the success of the most recent Toy Story movie that little children everywhere will be developing hoarding tendencies?
"Either that you're just crazy," my mother said, as she was throwing my baby booties in a garbage bag. It's not just that she was raised not to be sentimental, but more than that, to have utter disdain for anybody who is. I guess when you grow up without a lot of money you compensate for it by putting as little value as possible into material possessions.
As much as I can admire that, I still grabbed the booties from her.
"Call me crazy," I said, "And by the way, where is that tape?"
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