Back to the bottle caps.
It is my genetic inheritance to be a fantastic hoarder. We are talking Depression-era hoarding skills here. There is the canning (pickles, jam). There is the ostensibly practical stocking-up on erasers and toothbrushes. But there is also the peeling and curling of labels, the pocketing of old buttons. The lengths of string, the erasers, the lists. It is my saving grace that I am also a detester of clutter.
I think I could stop if I wanted to. I could not keep, but then I would be denying myself a bit of lovely, of comfort. For me, small things, pretty things, are very simply imbued with magic. And a small pile of those lovely things? Ever more magical. And when I'm taking note of those things that my life lacks, it is comforting to also take note of the things I have in plenty. To measure my life with coffee spoons.
But in this new land, the hoarding is more difficult to do well. I do not have space for 30-some tiny flower pots, for example, nor a cabinet just for old paper bags. Nor a drawer for nothing but, mmmmm, bottle caps.
And so. A place to put the things I love. A place to keep the acorn tops, the strips of paper curlicued. A new segment on First Milk for those things I love to pile, wish to pocket: Hoard, Keep.
Week I: Half-and-half caps for cream-friendly milkmaids, from Papier Valise.
4 maids a-milking:
I like to hoard, too. I have $6.37 in an envelope marked "hoarding" that will one day become a rug. xo
Speaking of Michelangelo, I have to say that I loved those old half and half tops. The sweet way the pleated waxed paper unfolded.
I love hoarding too, like a small mouse building a nest. Small things are the best things.
hoarding digital images seems like a really good idea when you live in a tiny new york apartment.
i myself love to throw things away. only *occasionally* do i regret it.
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