I'm the last to know

...what most of my friends and relations figured out about me long ago. But I'll get to that in a minute. First, let's have some bullet points.

• Today is C's birthday! He's 23 today. We're taking him and N out to dinner later this evening.
• The Hospice folks have assigned me to a new patient. I'll find out more tomorrow, then go for my first visit next week. I can't say much about it, confidentiality being all the rage these days. But I'm excited about starting this adventure.
• One of those therapist people is supposed to come see us this evening. Right, and we're taking C and N to dinner. I see too many therapists, honestly folks. This is the lady who works with us to help us better understand/cope/parent these crazy kids.
• And speaking of kids, today was their last day of school. This does not please me. I am sad that their summer break fills me with dread. I'm not totally unprepared, there are some possible activities to keep them busy. Hey, on the bright side, I won't be getting phone calls from school about their misbehaviors!
• Our little car has been making some odd noises. I foresee a trip to the mechanic in the near future. I noticed last week that she (her name is Eva) needs a new set of tires. And Manny my beloved truck is in bad shape. He runs, but not fast and not far.
• High temperatures in the area this week are in the mid to high 90s (F). That's mid 30s for you sophisticated metric-system-users. I managed to avoid going out today, but every other day this week I've been running errands and such in the hot middle of the day. It will only get worse over the next three to four months. I miss winter.
• My hair needs cutting. Again. Didn't we just do this a couple of months ago? I made an appointment Tuesday evening for Wednesday morning, then called early Wednesday morning to cancel it. I didn't feel comfortable about the stylist. I drove past another shop yesterday that looked decent. I should have called that shop today to set something up, but I wimped out. I like my hair short, but don't like the process of shortening it. We've discussed this.

Back to the original topic: I have a confession to make. I am a hoarder. No, it isn't as bad as the really scary stuff, but it isn't good, either. I don't attach sentimental value to used kitchen sponges or empty toilet paper tubes. I do, however, have a hard time getting rid of stuff. I mean to, I say that I want to, but when my stuff is on the line, I don't usually follow through.

I'm just realizing this about myself. If my family were to read this (extended family, the nuclear family of origin*) they would bust a gut laughing. As I begin to explore this new title, I'm faced with evidence that extends way into the past. Hell, just looking around my office I see evidence of long-term hoarding. How long have I had that (random item of junk)?

I watched an episode of the A&E program recently. It was the first time I've seen the show. I'd heard about it, but not watched it. My pathetic little self says "I'm not as bad as that person, or that one, or those weirdos." But does it matter? In the long run, probably not. I have my individual expression of the pathology (part of me denies that it is pathological) that restricts my life, as do other hoarders I have known.

I hoard more than stuff, too. Am I hoarding my hair, not wanting to allow anyone else to cut it? I dunno. Last week I got an email from a dear friend I'd not heard from in a while, and it took me four days to answer it. I think I was hoarding the essence of hearing from him. How messed up is that?

There is lots to explore and confront. We'll be returning to this topic in the future, I feel certain.

*Those of my immediate family who might read this are already laughing hysterically.

P.S. I just told C of my recent realization. He was very good. He only laughed for a minute or two.