An Unrepentant Pack Rat

I am a pack rat. I have trouble throwing away things that might be useful one day. Bottle caps, for instance. I think that it's an inherited trait. My paternal grandmother was a collector, too, of a magnitude that dwarfs mine. And my Uncle Howard's love of collecting reached psychotic heights, with hoards stored in alleys all over the cities where he lived.

I have collections stored in collections. Like these old baby wipe boxes that stack like legos. I haven't needed baby wipes in 17 years, but I've kept fasteners and buttons and wire in these containers all these years.

Books are precious to me. This set of Encyclopedia Britannicas belonged to my grandmother, and then to my dad, and now to me. When I want to learn about a topic from pre-1900, I refer to these volumes.

This is not the 11th edition, the most celebrated in history, written by the greatest scholars of the day. But it is the 1926 edition which contains many of those same articles, updated in some cases.

Today in Writing Workshop, with the help of a white rat puppet, I talked about rats. E.B. White's Templeton communicated the author's low opinion of rats, formed through his experiences with rats both in the city and at his beloved farm. But then I shared some fairy tale rats, Cinderella from the point of view of a rat-turned-horse, and How to Care for Your Pet Rat. Time ran short, and I never mentioned my pack rat earrings, one of this summer's Jabebo purchases.

But anyone who knows me well can attest that I am an unrepentant pack rat. And that I've been the source of some useful, recycled item. Waste not, want not. The pack rat's motto.

Hmmm. These old Altoid boxes would be perfect for holding sets of dimes and pennies in math! I knew I was saving them for something!