“This house is so cluttered I can’t find anything,” said my husband.
I looked around, and realized that most of the clutter was his, on that particular day, anyway. He seemed to be oblivious to that fact. He’s not only a closet packrat, he builds guitars. He rebuilds guitars- guitars that don’t quite meet his specifications when he buys them. Our living room is a guitar parts morgue. We could open up a store… They ought to make tables that have a slight angle to them, because every flat surface in our house gets piled with guitar parts, newspapers, mail, art supplies, telephones (yes we have several that don’t even work, but “might be salvageable”), and all the equipment that goes along with the guitar building and playing. His “workroom” has a tendency to overflow into the living areas. He said, just the other day, that he wanted to use the other bedroom to “store” stuff, too. I had to make a decision, to blatantly show him that most of the clutter is his, or keep quiet and put all his things away in his used-to-be-a-bedroom “workroom”. He surely would complain then, because it...
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