I reckon that I’m a miner. No, not the kind that extracts things from the earth, but rather one who feels it necessary to own things that I just ‘had’ to have, but will probably only use twice in my lifetime (if I’m lucky). I’m the kind of miner that walks around in his garage saying, “That’s mine, and that’s mine, and that’s mine…” Why, I have enough sockets to disassemble the Eiffel Tower, power tools to start a furniture shop, and odds and sods to start a liquidation store. I have fan belts for vehicles that I’ve never owned, and several containers of chainsaw oil, but no chainsaw, brand new screen for windows, a cast iron cauldron and several old broken handles, ‘critical’ to keep. Yep, I reckon that there ain’t no doubt about it, I’m a miner.
But, as bad as I am, there’s another within these walls who is even worse. It turns out that Miss Bea Kause is not only an avid miner herself, she’s an eccentric avid miner. Despite my tool drool and gluttony, she still needed to have her own tools, and pink tools at that. Pink tool belt, pink socket set, pink hammer, pink tape measure, and the list goes on and on. It’s like living with a home and garden Barbie, an ‘opinionated’ home and garden Barbie, complete with the ‘evil eye’ option. She’s so bad, she has to have stuff to store stuff in, that’s stored in other stuff. She recently got the spring cleaning bug, and lets just say that it took weeks to get rid of just her box collection. Now, don’t get me wrong, she ain’t a hoarder, she’s just real ‘cautious’ about letting go of stuff before it can legally be classified as prehistoric.
Sure, I can certainly understand keeping momentos to remind us of our past, but seriously, how many people have their little brother’s karate outfit from when he was like, seven? Why, that woman has enough hair drying and styling devices to start her own salon, and her collection is continually growing. I reckon that between all her hair gadgets and kitchen appliances, she’d have enough electrical cords to wire a whole darn farm. And, if she wound all of her hair ties into one big ball, the Earth would have another wonder of the world. But, I guess that the biggest difference between our mining techniques, is that she mines to remember, and I only mine due to delusion (meaning all her stuff has purpose, while mine has ‘promise’).
I have paints, canvas and an easel that I intend to use someday, right beside the large selection of model paints that I needed for the model airplanes I might purchase. I have a grinder to sharpen up my tools, if and when they eventually get dull, and power tools that have never been used. I’ve got extendable brushes that attach to hoses with spider webs over them, as well as nail guns and a compressor to build the deck of my dreams, for when I stop dreaming and build it. Heck, I’ve got enough screwdrivers to host a Redneck Family Lawn Dart Olympics, and everything that I need to pound, round, loosen, tighten, cut, heat, polish, measure, square and screw. In fact, I now have so much stuff, I’ve asked the cops to charge Canadian Tire and Princess Auto with contributing to the delinquency of miners!
You are not a miner. You are a hoarder.