I don’t think he’d qualify as a hoarder. He’s just never thrown anything out. He has his schoolwork from grade school. His parents kept it in their closet and never emptied it. When I forced him to throw out one small arts and craft item, he got upset, yelling, “I made that with my own hands!” Okay, so maybe he is a bit off kilter in that thinking. Lol.

It occurred to me that because he cannot throw out anything is probably the reason he can’t throw out me!

He puts stuff on every surface in the house, taking over the room, making it look awful. I stopped going into the den, I stopped trying to use the dining room, the bedroom the older boys vacated became a storage unit, full of dusty things. I can’t even go in there without getting an allergy attack. I am constantly taking the things he lets pile up off the kitchen counter and moving it to the other cluttered areas. I don’t fight with him about it. It would be too much of a constant fight. I haven’t even let this bother me over our whole marriage, although it did. I didn’t complain or fight with him about this!

If he uses something, it is left where he used it, he will not put it away. I will put it away.

At his job, he was in charge and others cleaned up after him as part of the job, so he is used to the entitlement, and I cleaned up after him, too.

When we first got together, I started cleaning and processing his stuff. He was grateful for it. He had a stack of newspapers, several feet high. He said he hadn’t gotten around to reading them. I threw out inches at a time while he wasn’t looking until one day he wondered where all his papers went. .

It bothered me that he wasn’t the kind of man who cared about the house and fixed things. He didn’t take pleasure in throwing balls with his boys. This sense of laziness was his personality. He was perfect and careful at work, then withdrawn at home. I accepted it.

In the long run, it hurt our family, and his relationship with his sons. It hurt them to not have that dad who takes interest in you man to man.

We’re having a peaceful afternoon, just my son and I. We picked out some things for him to take to college. He played me his wonderful guitar solos and some songs he’s writing.

When it’s the three of us here, there isn’t that one on one attention. It seems like it’s just more him asking our son if he’s done what he needs to be doing. They aren’t connecting, and I only get to really connect with my son when my h isn’t here.