Snoopy Snooper

When Joe and I purchased Grandmother's house we apparently also purchased all the stuff in the house. You see, Grandmother just turned 90 and decided she needed a little more freedom. She was kind of restricted in the house - stuck there on rainy/snowy days, no one to talk to, no one to take her places, etc. So, she decided to move into a retirement village. She went from a four bedroom house to a one bedroom apartment. She didn't take much stuff from her house, mainly just her bedroom furniture, personal items, kitchen necessities, and some books. So, there was a lot left over.

Before we signed on the house, all the family members went by and got what they wanted from the house (mainly pictures). After continuously begging asking family members to clear out the house we finally realized that everyone now considered all this stuff (I'm holding off calling it junk) ours. We were the proud owners of a lifetime's collection of furniture, books, kitchen supplies, clothes, toys, etc. Nothing of monetary value (that was already gone), just all that other stuff.

This brings us to the title of today's blog. Cleaning out someone else's stuff from their old house makes me feel weird. I constantly felt like I was invading Grandmother's privacy. I felt like a little kid snooping through my grandma's drawers. I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was looking, like I was going to get into trouble or something. It's just very strange.

After a while, though, it kind of became a little game of who could find the coolest thing in the house. So here's a little run-down of the cool tidbits we have found so far:

• an ice pick advertising the Fort Smith Ice Company. It also said, "Yes, you too can have your very own ice box with cooled air."
• Grandmother's baby doll (from when she was a little girl) with the original dress. She was only partially decapitated.
• a 1940's step stool chair (I'm totally pumped about this one. Short people don't like tall cabinets).
• a 1950's dress. It barely fit me but I'm totally keeping it. Joe told me I looked like Debbie Reynolds when I tried it on.

...and then, we found the things that made it all worthwhile (almost). They were so cool, I can't even describe them. So, I took a picture with Joe as the model.

 Aren't those the most awesome swim trunks you have ever seen?!? This pair was one of three. This pair was very Lycra-like. There was one pair that was really short. So short Joe's butt would probably hang out of the back. They felt like polyester. There was also a pair that looked like today's board shorts but were way smaller. They were really thick and felt like wool (though I know that's not what they're made of). I'm currently trying to talk Joe and his brother to wearing them to the pool this summer.

We boxed and boxed and moved and moved until we had taken three very full truckloads of her things to donate. I didn't take any pictures because it just felt weird to document it, almost too personal. They weren't my things, they were someone else's. And yet, I was the one getting rid of them. I felt bad about it.

This whole process made me really think about the stuff at my house and what is important to me. Sometimes, I place sentimental value on things that aren't valuable to anyone but me. I keep things forever (especially if someone else gave it to me) and have a hard time getting rid of it. Do I really need all this stuff? And how would I feel if someone else went through it, boxed it up, and gave it all away?

What do you think? Do we really need all the stuff we collect over the years? Should we just part with it? Why do we feel we have a constant need for more and more?