The perks of being a pack rat.

I hate the title: pack rat.  I suppose they call people that in order to dissuade them from being it.

Well, as much as I resent that, I do think that there is an upside to the business.  I’m a rehabilitating pack rat, getting over years of saving absolutely everything.

I’d really just like to think of it this way: I think everything has value.

Here are the perks, as I see them:

1. When you have those moments where you need  a yo-yo (it happens, people, it happens), you don’t have to wonder did I save that from second grade when that yo-yo specialist came to my elementary school and I bought a Duncan? You just automatically know that yes, yes you did.  Now the question of location is another story…

2. I won’t have to buy my kids any toys… provided I have girls.  I’ve got books, Barbies, a dollhouse, and dress-up clothes still.  Hopefully they like vintage.

3. It translates to people, this thought that everything has value.  Even when people may not seem to have the most useful or friendly or worth-your-time exterior, a pack rat thinks there still might be a use for them.  Not everyone needs to be on your bedside table (you know, the place where you keep your lip balm, lotion, a glass of water, some bedtime reading), but they can at least stay in your closet.  Perhaps they’re even on the top shelf, but they haven’t been totally passed over.  They haven’t been tossed out.  And hopefully they weren’t keen on being on your bedside table, so they don’t mind being shelved.

I’m not suggesting that you put people in your closet literally or even that you lower priority on people who don’t initially seem beneficial.    Stick to the “kindness always” motto, of course (credits to my Chemistry teacher/JV volleyball coach for that one).  I’m just saying that maybe pack rats have it right at least on some level: giving the benefit of the doubt and offering a chance.

Doesn’t everybody deserve at least one of those?

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