I’m a hoarder. I’ve mentioned it before and I totally own up to the fact that I probably have a pathological problem.
The thing is, I don’t give a rat’s ass. I enjoy my behavior. In fact, I can’t even bring myself to watch the crazy Hoarders show on A&E because it depresses me that packrat behavior is the new disease of the week.
Part of my natural cycle as a hoarder is occasional periods of purging. I get tired of the piles of crap around me and want new piles of crap. Over the years I’ve attempted to steer these periods of pseudo-asceticism towards a definable goal: be it the digitization of my massive music collection (an effort in grand fail) or, my current purge, “redefinition” of my toy collection.
I’ve got a metric crapload of toys. More importantly, I’ve got a metric crapload of toys from a company that has pissed me off with their practices and quality (read this; it almost mirrors my feelings). Therefore, I am dumping Western vinyl like crazy.
This is a good thing. I’m sure I’ll fill up just about the same amount of space with Eastern counterparts, but at least (I hope) I’ll be able to make a transition.
It’s actually a fun exercise. It’s like going into your house and saying, “Everything blue has got to go!”
Change is good.