I'm turning into my mother...

Have you ever seen those TV newsmagazines, like "60 Minutes" or "Dateline," when they do a story about severe OCD? You know... those crazy people who can't bear to throw anything away? Their houses are full of fast food wrappers and dirty paper towels, because they physically cannot get rid of a single thing? I judged those people, wondering how in the world a person gets that delusional.

My mom suffered from a minor bout of OCD. When she'd leave the house for an extended period of time, I'd throw away empty butter bowls that she had stored in her kitchen cabinets (more than 100 of them most of the time... yes, we ate A LOT of butter... no wonder my butt's so big). She always said she kept them in case she wanted to send leftovers home with my brother, but in reality, we didn't have leftovers that often, she just couldn't stand the thought of throwing something away.

Fast forward to the past week, when I've been cleaning out the boxes in my garage that I've moved multiple times without really knowing what was in them. I vowed not to move another box without knowing its contents and ensuring that I did, in fact, find it necessary to keep whatever was so heavy in there. Keep in mind, these are boxes that I paid $40 a month to store for more than a year, so they must contain important stuff, right? Turns out, not so much.

Not only have I been storing candles in varying degrees of melted, I actually had a file for every course I took in college with exams, papers, handouts and syllabi. I still own every yearbook from Kindergarten to my senior year (most of which I had multiple copies). Three huge boxes contained at least 200 pageant programs.

My name is Lori, and I'm a pack rat.

Now my trash can is overflowing with treasures, and my garage sale pile is bigger than the moving pile. Ah, progress.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, I have become my mother after all. Thankfully I use butter in a box. And I throw the boxes away. I'm breaking the cycle!