The Rat Pack, I mean the Pack Rat

We are participating in our community yard sale in a few weeks, and I’ve been getting things together in the house to sell. The pile thus far has been pretty measly to say the least. A couple of DVDs, some items we got for the baby that we never opened, a bunch of old clothes, etc.

So, I was very excited to venture into our storage closet today and try to find some more “treasures.” While I did find some more items to sell, the main focus of today was finding out that my husband is the epitome of a pack rat.

There are giant Tupperware containers lining our storage space and while my old stuff takes up about three of them, his dominates the rest. My stuff, in my opinion, is stuff worth keeping. Mainly pictures from my life, articles I’ve written over the years, some ticket stubs, advertising books, report cards and videos of shows I’ve been in.

My husband’s “pack rat-tiness” goes far beyond your typical box of childhood keepsakes. I laughed as he excitedly pulled out a box with his kindergarten and elementary school yearbooks, a lunch card with his 8th grade photo on it, cards from his high school graduation, and some kind of golf game, one of those electronic ones that predated video games. This was all together in one box, absolutely no rhyme or reason.

He also owns every gaming system known to man, from Atari, to Nintendo, to Game Gear, and about fifty games for each. Each one was packed, with every cord, wire, and extra piece you could own (Duck Hunt, anyone), and of course we “have to keep them.” He even took out the Nintendo and now we will be setting it up downstairs, in case he gets the urge to play some Tecmo Bowl!?

Then, we got to an entire box of wrestling figures, some still in the plastic, and thousands of baseball, basketball, and football cards. He even had baseballs from when he was in little league and had hit home runs, dated and signed. He fawned over this stuff like it was a newborn baby. I had to smile.

For some things I put my foot down, like the $80 Polo fleece vest that was “really in style” which went into the trash bag, along with the moldy duffel bag he used to take to swim class, that he saved because “it has the Chicago White Sox logo on it.”

On others, he won. Currently in my washing machine is an Anaheim Ducks’ Jersey, circa 1990 something, because “it’s classic.” I doubt he’s going to rock that anytime soon. I actually might make him wear it to Wal-Mart one of these days just out of spite.

Needles to say, my day of treasure hunting turned into a day of nostalgia, and a day of helping my pack rat – unpack (at least a little bit).

If we make $50 from this yard sale, I’ll be happy. I just have to make sure my husband doesn’t walk around our plan and pick up any more junk!

What is it inside us that makes us want to hold on to our stuff? A longing for that time? Laziness? Are you a pack rat, or do you live with one? And is there a fine line between this and hoarding?

About Tara Darazio

I'm a copywriter, owner of A Passion For The Pen, LLC and host of the Let's Meet For Copy podcast. Contact me at
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3 Responses to The Rat Pack, I mean the Pack Rat

  1. Ms. Nine says:

    Know what you mean…My husband’s work bench looks like a Home Depot sidewalk sale on clearance.

  2. Steph says:

    Love it! Duck’s jersey…lol. I’m kinda the opposite, I throw stuff away a little too easily. My husband, likes to hold onto things, too!

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