one man's treasures

By Lisa Houserman
Woman Newspapers

It has been a while since I’ve written about my other half (aka: Perpetual Boyfriend) and his particular brand of insanity. I may have briefly mentioned in columns gone by, how this man is a certified pack rat and would have saved his own baby teeth had the tooth fairy not intervened.

Thankfully, his affection is for ALL things, including those that are old and clutter-filled (including me - although my plethora of junk resides mostly in the brain.)

Let’s start with Perpetual’s “office” space which is housed in a mobile home. As the owner of a painting company, painting paraphernalia stuffed, stored, displayed and located in every square inch of the office would be considered pretty normal. However, it’s all the other things that are simply over the top. To give you an indication about where this is headed, take this recent conversation: “Darn, I really need a Life magazine from the year 1942,” said Lisa, with much sadness in her voice. “Oh, I have several at the trailer,” replied Perpetual.

Most things located “at the trailer” would be best suited for, oh, I don’t know, maybe his actual dwelling space. Laundry soap? He has a case, but it’s at the trailer. Sand for the driveway during the hideous cold months? You guessed it, it’s at the trailer.

If ever I absolutely NEED to have something here in the home, guaranteed it will be at the other site. In fact, over the years I have been told that the following articles are at the trailer: Sleds, winter coats, boots, nails (of all varieties and sizes), toilet paper, paper plates, dish soap, van snow tires, Zippo lighter fluid, sidewalk salt, bird seed, cat brushes, shovels, steak, decorative door knob, chicken, eggs, hummingbird feeder, seafood, lawn chairs, butter, bicycle helmets, long underwear, short underwear, shaving cream, empty flower pots, large garbage bags, a VCR, rotary telephones and a hubcap from a 1970 Chevy pickup truck.

Admittedly, Perpetual’s propensity to store every good, bad and ugly item from the last nine decades is bound to come in handy from time to time. I can be assured that even though my nose hair clipper is on the fritz, there is one waiting for me at the trailer. Need a lava lamp light bulb? No worries, there is one at the trailer. Should I desire a bag of baby food jars? Well, I know where they can be found. Neighbor kids asking for sidewalk chalk? Have no fear get the picture.

Is this disorder inherent in all members of the male population? Are some women like this? Am I the only one dealing with such shenanigans? (Will I be bludgeoned to death in my sleep by my darling Perpetual for penning this piece?)

I must dash. It has come to my attention that I’m in need of a pair of bolt cutters from 1922 and I just may know where I might find them.