Thereís a good reason that my house is so cluttered. Not only am I lazy and easily bored with such trivial matters as cleaning up the mess, but Iím also a pack rat who can never throw anything away. That wouldnít be so bad if I didnít keep accumulating more stuff.
The worst part of this condition of mine isnít the temptation to buy, but the need I have to fill in all the blanks. All I want is everything I donít have, but only in those few categories that interest me. I read book reviews and want to read all the books in the world. I read music reviews and want to own every CD ever recorded.
Itís not even just that. I need to own (or at least have access to) every song ever recorded by the performers I like. I canít settle for the greatest hits package; I must have the box set. Iím a completist. Thatís not even a word, according to my spell check, but itís what I am.
Iím better now, but in my wilder days I accumulated all the books in the Narnia series, none of which Iíve ever read. I have the complete works of George Strait, which Iíve listened to straight through exactly once. I have about fifteen years of issues of National Geographic, some in boxes and others just piled up randomly. How many articles have I read in the magazine over the years? A few. I do look at all the pictures, though, once.
Baseball fans are statistic nuts, and I have books where I can look up every major league record in the history of the game. If they put it all on a CD, I would own that.