TOO MUCH? TOO MANY? WHEN CAN YOU TELL

Too much of anything is a problem, but not when someone else tells you.

You’ve got to tell yourself.

It’s that simple. And that difficult.

But, as usual, there’s more to it.

Too often I find myself thinking I’ve got too much happiness.

‘Things are going so well that I think it will go on forever.’

But one thing baby boomers know by now, happiness doesn’t last forever.

Seeking happiness? Yes, that’s eternal, but finding it as a lasting condition? Good luck.

I like to tell people that the small things that work out the way they’re supposed to is more than enough.

The big things that work out for the most part? That’s a win.

The bigger the ‘thing’ the more chances of it not working out.

The more people involved, the less likely it will work out just like you planned.

Even good people make mistakes.

 

 

My history experience spans decades. I’ve seen stuff that’s been around longer than it should, but that’s what you get in museums.

It’s like an academic flea market where one era’s trash is another era’s treasure.

That could be my excuse for not throwing anything away, but instead I admit to slight hoarding notions. Slight as in too many things I don’t use often enough.

Every garbage day eve I look for things to put in the trash. A topped off trash can is a happy trash can.

And every day after I see the same stuff on the same shelves.

Bug spray, paint cans, oil cans, jumper cables, car tire chains, wood stains. Five of each.

If I didn’t know better I’d look at my accumulation and think I was a pretty busy guy.

The thing is, if I use any of my gear once a year it’s worth keeping?

 

The Lessons Of Too Much

Somehow my house became the final resting ground for several generations.

I’ve got my crap, which is dubious, along with stuff from my parents, grandparents, my wife, her parents, her grandparents.

Kids see room for their crap, too.

The truth is, their crap is not their fault. Mom and Dad just can’t bring themselves to weed through their middle school papers in the flat storage bin under their beds, and stuff like that. (Hey Glenn)

Who is supposed to do that?

I remember helping clear out one of Mom’s ‘storage’ rooms, which was a bedroom full of stuff stacked to the ceiling.

All of the treasures were worth a good cry that lasted all day, but we got the work done.

Clothes in the closet with the price tags still attached, decades of Sunset Magazine that she’d planned to read in retirement.

Chairs stacked with old debris treasure, a desk covered in papers.

She kept it all behind the bedroom door and still wanted to keep it all.

I’m overwhelmed by the same urge when I start throwing things in the trash.

‘I might need this old wire. The mat knife is broken, but it’s still sharp. How many screw drivers do I need?’

 

Recycle, Reuse, Reduce, To The Rescue

 

I’ve got a small yard but an inventory of yard tools.

The books on my shelves could be used again.

I’ve got writing books about how to write a book, how to outline a book, how to get a book agent.

If I had a dream of opening a booky-bookstore I’d be off to a good start.

When I look around, look under, and look over what I’ve got laying around, I see a life well lived.

It’s all pointing toward a good life, not a shit pile, but sometimes it’s a close call.

 

I was on the road recently and met a guy who brought his guitar to the pool.

He had six more in the trailer he was towing.

From the looks of him and his gal pal, they were living on the road in their big trailer and pulling into hotels now and then for a break.

We played guitar, handing one back and forth, until he brought another one out.

I tuned them up just in time to leave for dinner so we never got to play together, but he showed all of the signs of a runaway, of giving up, at thirty-nine.

He had the laugh, the girlfriend, and the guitar. I’m not saying guitar guys ever stop there, but he seemed like someone with a couple of mini-storage units back home.

All I’m asking is, ‘How can you call it downsizing if you don’t downsize?’

(Looking at two sticky TV remotes)