Confessions of a Hoarder

I opened the cabinet door this morning and a Cool Whip container hit me on the head.  Actually, several Cool Whip containers, followed by a couple of margarine tubs, spilled out of the place I carefully collect them.  I have a problem.  I can't seem to get rid of them.  No matter how many I have, I can't throw any of them away. If you were to have looked into the fridge at my Grandmother's house, you would find numerous tubs of various sizes, all salvaged from the trash pile and used now to store bits of left-overs.  Now ours closely resembles the one I remember from my childhood.

Not long after my Grandmother passed away, my mom and I went through her belongings.  We came across 26 pairs of tweezers.  26!  I guess one can never have too many in case an extra eyebrow grows in.  And what she was planning with the drawer of bread bag twist ties, I am not sure.  Rubber bands and disposable pie plates, brown paper bags and safety pins were all crammed in drawers and cabinets in her house.  I remember as a child being amazed as she deftly reached into her curly mane and pulled out a bobby pin for my hair, as if she kept an arsenal on hand for just that reason.  She was always prepared.

Now each time I use my own throw-away pie plates and Cool Whip containers, I realize I learned from the best.  In fact, just the other day, my daughter asked me if I had any pencils.  I opened a drawer to about 10 boxes of them.  One can never be sure...