A war begins. Ugh. My spouse owns a property I affectionately call 'The Shed'. It is a dilapidated and run down mess. The roof is collapsing, the wooden floor is warped and sagging, mice and roaches are the currents tenants.That is not the worse. My spouse is a collector (hoarder). It is full of bits and pieces, most not valuable. The benign sort of 'Wow, someone got rid of this! I can fix it up and sell/use this.' Time passes and the value that might of existed is drained away through neglect.
I hold in my hand these envelopes. As a child of four can plainly see, these envelopes have been hermetically sealed. They've been kept in a #2 mayonnaise jar since noon today on Funk and Wagnall’s porch.--Ed McMahon
Who could predict a mayonnaise jar would be at the center of so much controversy? On an ordinary workday and I went to brew a cup of liquid motivation. My spouse asked a question delivered with embedded shards of glass and wrapped in barbed wire. Did I know where his mayonnaise jar was? A surge of adrenaline burns away the last of sleep. We live in a tiny apartment and he is an unapologetic collector. I am smothered by useless things, duplicate things, future things, broken things, things collected to appease the fear, more and more objects sucking the oxygen from the very space which surrounds me. Periodically, I am compelled to thin the brush. I quickly wash a mayonnaise jar from the refrigerator. He is not appeased. I escape to the job, but wonder does the flap over a mayonnaise jar in New Mexico set off a typhoon in Tokyo?
