Or a clever advertising scheme?
"Hoarders." I watch that show and immediately scan my house for things that can be purged. I make a list of cleaning supplies. I find myself picking up, dusting, and vacuuming during commercials. I notice how the piles on the counters and table need to be eliminated...and I cannot sleep until they are properly sorted and filed. That show is a boon for cleaning supply companies. Not a lot of us need those big blue "Got Junk" trucks, but I do think about how quickly the garage could be organized if I had one in my front yard. I find peace in the fact that very little in my house would draw me to tears if I had to do without it. I can quite easily donate a truckload to Goodwill, and am already scanning the area for the next big load to go. There is something quite nice about an easily organized house. In my little place that equates to sparse. It is sad to see people so tied to stuff. So tied that they risk losing their children for the memories that certain small trinkets give them. I remember when Mom died I had a dress that I kept for a very long time. At first it was for the smell. The smell of Mom, even as an adult, gave me comfort. It made me sad as the smell faded. I never wanted her to fade from my life. But she did. The memories are there, and will forever be, but she is gone. I have certain trinkets that I cherish and will pass on to my children and grandchildren, but she is gone. They will not mean the same things to them as they do to me. And that is OK. They don't even need to keep them. They don't remember her; some never knew her. They are just cool antiquey things. I'm good with that. But I am not good with piles and piles of cluttery stuff. I hate the smell of mildew. Walking into an antique shop gives me a headache.
My kids grew up in an unsanitary house. I tried to keep it up, and did a fair job until I got sick. Five of us in a 600 square foot house was tough. When I became bedridden the cleaning stopped. It makes me feel ill just to think back, so I won't. I am just grateful that I am out of there and that my kids are healthy. Our history shapes us, but that part of my history I really cannot revisit. I am not willing to acknowledge that it made me stronger, or a better person, or anything but extremely sad. However, the knowledge that it wasn't me is somewhat nice. Watching the television show gives me the little nudge I may need to keep "stuff" to a minimum.
I still think it may be a clever marketing ploy, however...
Electronic cleaning wipes
Refill for mop
Perhaps I am becoming "Obsessed"? Do I need an "Intervention"? Perhaps I should stick to Nick at Night...