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Folkmarks - Overcoming hoarding is a parting event

At the moment, I don't recall what Iwore to bed as a child.

At the moment, I don't recall what Iwore to bed as a child. What Iremember is a period of time when wedidn't have enough blankets to go around,and how cold the winter was, and how soreI was in the morning after spending thenight rolled in a ball trying to keep warm ona hard cot.

We would have done well to go to bedwith our clothes on. In fact, we should haveworn our coats and boots to bed sometimes.However, for some reason, during thenight, our mother would go around thehouse and put the coats over us while weshivered in our beds. I think she couldn'tbring herself to admit defeat and she persistedin pretending we weren't in dire needof things most of us take for granted now.

Mom continued to act as if we had coalto heat our house, even though all we hadwas wood, seldom seasoned for the bestburn. The fire went out on a regular basis. Inthe worst of winter, someone had to sit upand keep the fire going, as our house didn'thave insulation. A canvas tent is too cozy asthat house was too warm.

I now have enough bedding to bed severalpeople and there are only two people andone cat (that is not allowed in our bed) inthe house.

Even our cat has too much bedding.Every time I go to a garage sale, I see somethingthat would keep a cat or dog warm,which I wish to purchase.

I recall several pets that spent the nighttravelling from bed to bed trying to findone where the tenant was not rolled in aball. A comfortable person, one that isn'trolled in a ball, gives a pet an opportunityto lay on something warm and level. Yet Icoaxed a puppy and a cat into to my bed,thereby risking the usual argument,because even a small ball of heat is still aball of heat. To my disappointment, theyalways left as soon as I fell asleep, takingaway the warmth from my feet and thesmall of my back. I suppose they went insearch of a warmer brother or sister, afterthe fire went out, and began their lonelymidnight prowl looking for summer in theshape of a still living human. Or perhapsmy territorial behaviour over bed spaceasserted itself as soon as I fell asleep.

There's nothing like territorial behaviourfrom a sleeping child to encourage a pet tovacate the windmills of arms and legs immediately.Besides, like I said before, pets prefera warm, level place to snooze or at least awarm and wiggle free back on which tolean.

One of my sisters became an expert atsoftly stealing my bedcovers as I slept. It'sincredibly difficult to wrest a blanket fromthe clutches of a cold sibling when theyhave wound it round their body like acocoon. Consequently, she performed herdarkness forays before I rolled up like anarmadillo with firmly clutched blanketwrapped firmly around my fetal pose.

Once she had the blanket it didn't do togo and push her on the floor to get it back.I was the oldest and Mom would hear mysister's outraged screams and come and giveme a blast for bothering one of the youngerchildren and my sister could express outrageas you can never imagine.

All of the forgoing is my excuse for havingtoo much bedding around my house.Plus, I've been annoying Hubby by suggestinghe pare down his computer clutter so Ihave to get rid of some stuff. There is noway I'm going to get rid of the pile of acidfree paper I have stored under my bed, sothe bedding is the quick fix and I'm amazedwith the amount of space freed up after thebedding removals.

I'm on a roll. If I can manage my beddinghording compulsion perhaps I can dosomething with the desk muddle. And,please, no remarks about using a disordereddesk to disguise a cluttered mind.

Since arrival to Dawson Creek in 1960,Margo Hannah plants, paints and ponders,utilizing thrift and sloth to accomplish all.

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