When I first met my husband, he resided in a pristine one-bedroom apartment that led me to believe he was a minimalist. Little did I know about the hidden storage unit that contained his true nature! Signs of his pack rat tendencies were evident—like the antiquated prom mug on his desk overflowing with cheap pens collected from trade shows. I overlooked these hints, perhaps because I, too, have a tendency to hold onto items that may seem insignificant. After all, I’ve been known to keep tags on clothes I never wear, and I have a collection of scented candles in the basement that have been there for who knows how long.
While I tend to be rather organized—someone who appreciates the value of high-quality items—my husband has an entirely different approach. He suffers from what I like to call “The Save Everything Disease.” Although we haven’t reached the extreme of hoarding seen on reality TV, his affinity for gadgets leads him to purchase multiples of each. We have a shop vacuum, a car vacuum, a handheld vacuum, a robot vacuum, and several others that are inoperable yet kept for parts. My current vacuum was bought off an infomercial he spotted during a flight because he thought I’d love its myriad attachments.
His collection of air compressors is equally impressive, with one designated for bicycles, another for car tires, and yet another for inflating the air mattress we plan to use for camping—once we finally get a tent. His closet houses countless V-neck sweaters, all gifts from his mother, that he never wears but refuses to part with.
Then there are the wires. Oh, the wires! I should have taken a clue from his high school yearbook, where his senior quote proclaimed a dream of building a supercomputer. Cables overflow from boxes in the home office, crammed into our cars’ glove compartments, stuffed into junk drawers, and piled high in plastic bins in the garage. They’ve accompanied us through seven moves, with some even enduring a cross-country relocation.
USBs, HDMI cables, outdated chargers, and a mountain of old Christmas lights—all of these have found their way to our home. I’ve tried to discreetly eliminate some of these excess wires on numerous occasions, leaving them in strategic spots like his nightstand or the bathroom sink. I ask him, “Do you really need this?” My household motto is simple: “If it doesn’t have a name, it’s fair game.” Yet, I’m met with elaborate explanations about why each cable is essential.
While he enjoys tinkering with these gadgets, I sometimes wonder how we’ll manage if a power outage occurs. But mention that scenario, and he’ll likely start stockpiling generators and battery-operated devices.
And just when I thought things couldn’t get any crazier, he introduced a collection of miniature drones! Transmitters and chargers now occupy every outlet in our house, and if one more quadcopter invades my living room, I might just take a drastic step. But my husband is undeterred; he’ll simply grab one of his many tiny tools and make repairs.
If you ever need a fan, we are your go-to resource. We have oscillating fans, box fans, and even windowless AC units. The pack rat is definitely a fan of fans.
On the bright side, if an apocalypse were to occur, we might just have everything necessary to survive—until the power goes out, of course. But I suppose that’s just part of living with a pack rat. If you want to read more about managing similar situations, check out this post on intracervicalinsemination.com. Also, for those curious about fertility, Make a Mom is a great resource. For broader information on pregnancy, visit Progyny.
In sum, navigating life with a pack rat can be a challenge, but understanding their quirks and finding humor in the situation helps make it more manageable.