When I first crossed paths with my husband, he resided in a charming one-bedroom flat that sparkled with cleanliness. I was convinced he was a minimalist! Little did I know, I missed the hidden storage unit that held the key to his true nature.
There were subtle signs of his pack rat tendencies if I had only looked closer. For example, he had a prom mug from two decades ago filled with an assortment of cheap pens from trade shows cluttering his desk. I didn’t think much of it at the time—after all, I’m not immune to keeping a few items myself. I’ve been known to hold onto unworn clothing with tags still attached for years and have a collection of scented candles in the basement that have been gathering dust for who knows how long. I can understand the urge to preserve high-quality items, but my husband? He has a unique condition known as “Save Everything Because You Might Need It Someday Syndrome.”
Now, thankfully, we’re not at the level of a reality TV show hoarder, but he certainly leans toward excessive accumulation. If he finds a gadget he likes, he buys several versions. Our home is a maze of vacuums: a shop vacuum, a car vacuum, a handheld vacuum, and even a robot vacuum, all alongside a graveyard of broken models kept for parts. One of our latest purchases—a vacuum he spotted on an airplane infomercial—was touted as a gift for me, complete with a plethora of attachments.
We have air compressors for every conceivable need: one for the bicycles, one for car tires, and another for inflating the air mattress we plan to use for camping, once we actually buy a tent. And let’s not forget the closet filled with V-neck sweaters he never wears, all gifts from his mother that are too sentimental to part with.
But the real pièce de résistance? The tangled chaos of wires that seems to multiply overnight. I should’ve clued in when I saw his high school yearbook with the quote, “I dream of someday building a supercomputer.” Wires are everywhere! Stuffed into boxes in the home office, crammed into the glove compartments of our cars, and overflowing in plastic bins in the garage. They’ve accompanied us through seven moves and survived a cross-country relocation.
USB Type-A, USB Mini B, HDMI, DisplayPort—you name it, we have it! I’ve tried to declutter these wires multiple times, leaving piles strategically placed around the house, only to be met with his passionate defenses: “That’s a D2345699 coaxial cable—definitely good to keep around!” I mean, I suppose he does tinker with them, climbing into the attic and rewiring gadgets like it’s second nature.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, in came the miniature drone collection. After enduring his obsession with model planes, now we have transmitters and chargers occupying every outlet. If one more quadcopter hovers above me, I might just snap and toss it out the window! But he’s undeterred, armed with a stash of tiny wrenches ready to fix anything that breaks.
And if you ever need a fan? We’re your go-to source. From oscillating stand fans to box fans and even windowless AC units, my husband has amassed a fan collection that could rival any store.
On the bright side, if an apocalypse were to strike, we’d be well-equipped to survive—until the power goes out. But if you dare mention that, he’ll likely start hoarding generators and battery-operated devices.
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In summary, living with a pack rat can be a test of patience and understanding, but it also brings a wealth of stories and experiences. Embracing our quirks is what makes life interesting, after all.
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