Ruminating about rummage

My son Andrew is in charge of our church’s annual rummage sale Saturday. The money raised goes to programs for our senior high youth.

I’ve known about the sale since September, when Andrew accepted the job as director of youth ministries. I vowed to clean out the unfinished part of our basement, piled to the ceiling with stuff, and deliver a carload of donations to this worthy cause. I’d kill two birds with one stone: make my storage area less hazardous, and support Andrew’s ministry. What could be better?

I have to deliver the goods today. Am I ready? No.

I did take a stab a couple months ago when I needed the box of Easter decorations. So much junk was shoved in front of the metal shelves holding the box that I couldn’t reach it. I did the easy cleanup -- discarding empty boxes that had accumulated. Gene took a load to the recycling center. The rest are still stacked neatly in the rec room. (Sigh.)

Friends remark on how organized I am. That’s because they see only the parts of the house that show. If they stepped into my basement, they’d start hyperventilating.

Why do I keep all this stuff? Cartons of my sons’ preschool artwork. Generations of suitcases dating from the 1950s. Shopping bags from stores that shuttered years ago. Original boxes for small appliances -- hair dryers, vacuum cleaners, food processors, mixers -- in case I ever need to send them back for warranted repairs. Halloween costumes from the 1980s on. My daring disco dress from 1978. Games no one’s played in eons and never liked in the first place. Gifts I’ve bought with loved ones in mind, then put away for the future and forgot. It’s ridiculous.

It’s got to be some kind of illness.

Years ago, a disgruntled water heater repairman shook his head as he wedged himself sideways to gain access to the unit. I’d tried to clear a path, but it was hard! He said if the unit ever failed and flooded the room, I’d have a real mess on my hands.

Like I didn’t have one already.

I save stuff because I have grand fantasies that someday I’ll organize it all and then it will have value. At least it will have sentimental value -- which has to be the most overrated concept ever.

The inability to part with things carries over to other areas of my life. My mother and my cousin both commented the other day that their e-mails bounced back with a notice that my inbox was full. That means I had 1,000 active e-mails sitting in my AOL account (not counting all the others in my 46 saved-mail folders). Who needs to hold onto 1,000 e-mails?? Do I think I’m going to read them all again? What my mother and cousin don’t know is I also have a gmail account with 601 messages. And lots of threads going in my Facebook inbox.

I used to save IMs. Do you know how hard those things are to read after the moment?

This IS a sickness.

It’s just too easy to close the basement door or turn off the computer and ignore it all, especially when there are so many other things I’d rather be doing. Sorting and tossing is boring! And it requires so many decisions, it makes my head hurt.

But today I will make the effort. I will fit as much as I can into the car and take it to church. (Darn! Gene left the van for me instead of the Prius.) I will get the ball rolling, accepting that this is a process I can continue next year.

I will do it -- as soon as I finish blogging …