Most people collect things like stamps, spoons, coins and dust. I, myself, use to collect music boxes. As beautiful as they were, they did take up space. Realizing that moving into an RV and perhaps at some point onto a boat would give me limited space for such collectables, I found them new homes.
Over the last year, my other half has been collecting containers. I don’t mean steel shipping containers, shed containers, boxes or footlocker size Tupperware containers. I mean miscellaneous containers that once held products such as peanut butter, coffee, spices or sedatives Tylenol. Nope, it’s jars, cans and bottles of all different sizes. The only criteria are that it has a lid and hopefully no leaks. Now the only thing I collect these days is my wits about me when he catches me trying to dispose of a jar and reacts like I’m throwing away a rare artifact from the Titanic.
“What are you doing? Don’t throw that out!” he gasps, clutching his chest.
I stop, look at the jar and then back at him. Damn, I’m busted. “We, meaning you, don’t need any more containers. There are too many empty ones around here already. What are you planning to DO with them all anyway?”
“They’re good for putting stuff in” he says as he holds out his hand to receive the jar, still clutching his chest with other. He already has a BAG of “stuff” that he carts around wherever we go. It started out as a baggie size thing with a washer, a couple of nuts/bolts, a marble and an elastic band, but has become a gym bag (not to be confused with a “man bag” which is a male version of a purse) containing the previous baggie contents (multiplied by 20) plus items like miniature tools, duct tape, WD40, our camera and his Mr. Magoo glasses. Ok, maybe it is a man bag. Anyway, we’re ready for anything from sealing a hole in the space shuttle to getting his pants zipper unstuck, at which time I’ll be ready to grab the camera and do my part by taking pictures….of the space shuttle….But I digress.
Anyway, I admit I’ve seen him use a couple of the containers in the outside storage area of the RV and on the boat, but a couple is a far cry from the amount that’s been accumulating in the RV. They’re everywhere! In the clothes closet, the shower, the laundry basket, on the table, under the table, and sitting next to him on the bench. I’m drawing the line if they show up in our bed. I have dreams that I wake up to find our dishes have been replaced by an army of containers marching under the command of a President’s Choice bulk coffee can, and I’m forced to eat my cereal out of pickle jar.
So anyway, still holding the jar I say “Come on now, how many more screws and bits and things do you foresee in our future?”
Still clutching his chest and looking with eyes that couldn’t get any bigger, the man who always has an answer for everything (right or WRONG) responds with a shrug. Well I was so taken by surprise that I thought perhaps he was indeed having a heart attack, and so I handed him the jar, at which time he made a miraculous recovery. Damn I’m gullible.
And so went another day. He, casually finding a space for the jar, and me coming closer to drinking my Baileys Milk out of a peanut can. I brush my teeth, crawl between the sheets and then….“OW, my toe!……”What the hell?”
Pass the Tylenol
Post blog update: Well it turns out Brian’s stepdad loves containers too and Brian doesn’t hold a candle to him. Here’s a pic from his workshop, and keep in mind it’s only one corner of his shop.