There comes a time in your life when you have to face the truth about yourself. This weekend, I had to do just that.
I am a mail-hoarder.
You heard me. A mail hoarder (which is quite different from a Male Hoarder, which doesn't sound like a bad deal at all).
I was deep-cleaning my house, purging rooms of unwanted stuffage, when I realized I have bags and bags (literally!) of mail. It was frightening in it's proportions, believe me.
See, the problem is I just don't do mail much anymore. When it comes in, I give it a cursory glance, remove any rare piece of personal mail (like a birthday card or something) and the one bill I can't pay online (which only comes quarterly) and the rest of it gets shoved into a pile on my kitchen countertop.
Then once a week or so, I see this pile of local newspapers, junk mail offers, coupon flyers and unopened bills that I already see online and I shove it all in a plastic grocery bag, telling myself I'll take it into work and shove it all into the shredder and then the recycle bin.
Except, I apparently never do that.
And the result is, I kept finding bag after bag of mail (some of it is months old) and then I lined them up on my kitchen table and didn't have enough room for them all. Oh. My. God. What the heck is wrong with me!
It's not like I can't bear to part with any of it. It's junk, for Pete's sake. A big bunch of junk. And for some reason, I have a mental block about getting rid of any of it. I've got a huge case of Mailzheimer's - I can't remember to get rid of my junk mail. Who the heck does this?
I guess I do. Or I did, anyway.
Today, I brought one bag in with me and it's going in the shredder. I'm bringing a bag in every day till they're gone. And from now on, I sort and toss on a daily basis. Holy crap, I am never going to get like this again.
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