Museum of Me
12-30-22
I’ve realized I’m just lugging my own personal museum of my pointless stuff.
For my stuff, it’s my own personal museum—that only I care about.
A pair of Dockers dress shoes from circa 2004 that were snazzy, once upon a time…like Frank Sinatra, etc.
(I’ve been accused of being a hoarder. No. Hoarders are like someone I know. My fiancee hoarded and accused me of hoarding. They often deflect. You’re telling me a couple TVs, coffee maker, and a box of cologne packages is hoarding? I don’t think so. I gotta a couple things but it’s nothing like a garage full of mysterious boxes that only one person knows about.)
Hoarders are just really bad museum curators.
They’re like the worst museum curators in the world.
Their intentions are good, save things. But they are a mess!
12-30-22
I’ve realized I’m just lugging my own personal museum of my pointless stuff.
For my stuff, it’s my own personal museum—that only I care about.
A pair of Dockers dress shoes from circa 2004 that were snazzy, once upon a time…like Frank Sinatra, etc.
(I’ve been accused of being a hoarder. No. Hoarders are like someone I know. My fiancee hoarded and accused me of hoarding. They often deflect. You’re telling me a couple TVs, coffee maker, and a box of cologne packages is hoarding? I don’t think so. I gotta a couple things but it’s nothing like a garage full of mysterious boxes that only one person knows about.)
Hoarders are just really bad museum curators.
They’re like the worst museum curators in the world.
Their intentions are good, save things. But they are a mess!
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