If You Say It, You Better Mean It

My family stays slightly annoyed by my tendency to chuck things. I enjoy throwing things away. I open my mail in the garage, right beside the huge trash can. I hate random papers. I don't have prized possessions. I know that eventually things will break or I will fall out of love with them. My home could become cluttered. The mere thought of clutter leaves me struggling to breathe.

While they may not be "prized" possessions (because they aren't priceless), I do have things that I love. And if those things were lost or destroyed, I would be sad. But not devastated. I wish I could say this is because I'm simply noble that way....I've lost a lot in my life that can never be replaced, I clearly understand what's most important. While that is certainly true, it's not the reason I don't get attached to material items.

There are two (far less noble) reasons:

(1.) An incident that occurred when I was around 12. It involved my little brother, a very AWESOME Swatch watch (that most likely each of my parents had to sell a kidney in order to buy), and a garbage truck that came up the street before we realized where that very AWESOME Swatch watch was. That didn't end well. I learned to never become overly attached to things.

(2.) And the other reason...have I mentioned that I really do hate clutter?

Here are some possessions I don't necessarily "prize", but I do love:

See that last one? It's important. I need sleep. I am a beast without good sleep. My husband and I waited years for this perfectly wonderful, supremely comfortable, very big bed. It was a few years more before I bought the bedding, waiting until I could have what I wanted. (Still can't decide on a headboard, and I refuse to spend my cash until I find "the one".) I LOVE my bed. I do NOT love when children hop on my bed and wrestle around, mussing up my pillows. It's my bed. I waited a LONG time for this bed and longer for the bedding. So what happened when those three children began a high speed chase/wrestling match?

It ended with:

• all of them piled on top of my bed
• rolling around like pigs in mud
• my yelling, "Don't trash my bed. How rude. If you wanna trash a bed, go trash your own bed."

My twelve year old son and six year old daughter laughed at me, shook their heads and went about their business. They respected the unspoken, "You shouldn't trash any beds at all, and all three of you know that!! I'm simply trying to make a point."

My nine year old son had other ideas. Having other ideas is not uncommon for him. With that boy, you've really gotta choose your words carefully. If you say something, you better mean it.
He even had the nerve to laughingly say, "Well it's your fault, you told me to do it." Yes, the flat sheet ended up under the bed and the skirt was completely crumpled underneath everything else. Did he care that he had to remake the bed he'd already made that morning? Of course not! Hope he doesn't consider his bed a "prized" possession, because I'm throwin' it out if he pulls that stunt again!