Out with the old box of old stuff, and in to a new box filled with more old stuff that I put in a new box filled with more old stuff.

I am an unbalanced person.  Not "unbalanced" like I'm going to freak out on someone for cutting in line at Walmart by walloping them in the noggin with my bag of frozen peas, more like bananas-weird-slightly not normal "unbalanced".   On a side note: thank freaking 
Merriam Webster dictionary Gwen Stefani sang that stupid bananas song or I'd never spell that word correctly.  Ahem, as I was saying ...

Hello my name is Sarah Alice aka Sally and I am a judger.  I judge others.  Yeah, I said it.  I judge, judge, judgey - judge - judge.  Not proud of it but I'll admit to it, I totally do.  Yes I know perfectly well that Noah or Peter, maybe Paul, Owen or Jessie Mae in the Bible said not to judge others but I cannot help myself.  One of my worst offences involves me sitting on my couch and letting out a guffaw or smirk at those bat-shit crazy people on Reality TV.  Please excuse my language but some of those cats are mental, and I can't get enough of it.  Some nights I find myself 1/2 box of Wheat Thins deep into Mob Wives, This Ain't Yo Mama's Street Corner, Kitchen Nightmares Part 1,000, My Maid of Honor Married Her Dog or some other trashy show that is playing at 3 am.  There I perch in all my judging glory shaking my head at the poor nutcases that 20 years ago were just known as that wacky dressed lady or redneck moonshiner that lived in the trailer down the street you would never think twice about.  Now you will find me completely engrossed for the duration while they take front row seats in my living room and I just stare in wonder.  And Judgement.

Hoarders is without a doubt the most unbelievably mesmerizing television show I have ever seen.  There I sit dumbfounded by this terrible mental disease these poor people suffer from, thinking out loud how in the free world does someone allow themselves to accumulate so much STUFF!  This is being shouted towards my husband who stares back at me in total bewilderment while we are surrounded by all of my stuff.  The only difference between me and poor Pennsylvania Linda from last night is that my crap is nicely tucked away  ... in boxes, baskets and cabinets.  While I am wild-eyed and snurking at Linda last night, there sits a basket beside me full of blankets!   There's the one my Grandmother made, Oma made, 2 fuzzy Christmas ones, the blue fleece, a fluffy plaid number, First Methodist from Lake Waccamaw throw, Dora, Elmo .... you get the picture.  We are a family of 4.  Just 4.  Not to mention each time I decide to weed out old books, Tupperware, laundry room junk - you name it, I just replace the old crumpled box they sit in with a new box and keep it all.  Nevermind the fact that I'll just add more old to the new box and nothing ever really gets thrown away.  The box is new, the junk is contained and it's up on a shelf, under a table, in the storage room, back of closet, in a basket, cabinet, car trunk or under the kid's bed just as pretty as you please. 

Don't even get me started on the Nanny shows, boy do I have a spoon full of advice for those parents who let their kids run the world.  I'm an expert on having perfectly disciplined children, even have the crown to prove it.