I’m Hooked on Hoarders

There, I said it.

Carol Burt

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Photo by Andrew Haimerl (andrewnef) on Unsplash

I have never in my life been much of a television watcher. I’d rather read. Also, I have trouble sitting still for a whole movie. But I’ve become addicted to a dang reality show. Yes. A stupid reality show, and one of the worst, has hooked me.

My husband watches TV constantly. It’s his normal to spend most of his day in front of the TV — and good or bad, I’ve stopped bitching about it. No use. Better to have peace than to stress aloud about him sitting in one place too long. I sit at the computer too long, too.

But this stupid TV show. I hate to admit it. I got hooked on watching Hoarders. Hoarders!

Yes, I’m ashamed to say it, but it’s just something that awakens my morbid curiosity. I can’t wait to see how really bad the house looks inside, and then I feel satisfied when they clean it up. Sick, huh? I can’t help it. I love watching it, and it’s so disgusting I wouldn’t be more ashamed to admit to watching porn. No, wait, it’s not that bad, but it’s still a nasty habit.

The only TV I have watched up to now is the ABC World News every day at 5:30. We schedule dinner around World News. I have to have that and my Washington Post, along with lots of internet news.

But this. I can’t even believe I’m writing this and admitting it. I couldn’t think of anything else to write about, and I thought I might as well come clean.

Watching Hoarders does have one positive effect on me, though. Every time I turn it off, I scan over my house and see if anything needs to be put away or thrown away.

I don’t watch Home Shopping Network or order anything that we don’t need on the internet. Even our groceries are ordered online and picked up. I haven’t shopped in stores since the Pandemic started. We aren’t minimalists, but we sure aren’t hoarders, either. Our rooms are big and spacious in this old house. And we like to keep them that way. No clutter or junk.

So, I don’t know why I’m so absorbed in watching Hoarders, but I am. I wonder if I’m starting down the road to senility? Or I wonder if I’m escaping from my real life right now that includes my very sick mother in the nursing home, a grandson who has decided college isn’t right for him (he’s still going, by God), a motorhome that needs a new roof, all my mom’s stuff, etc.

Maybe it is escapism. I feel so ashamed watching it and loving it as much as I do. And most of the time, the people don’t even get over it. They just go back to Hoarding — because it’s a mental illness. It doesn’t go away just cause some TV production cleaned it out one time.

Oh, well, maybe at least I will be forewarned and won’t turn into an ole senile hoarder with 15 cats in the house. But, I don’t know about the cats. I already have three. Just to be safe, I’ll tell Ray if I start going to flea markets and stacking up useless things to call Hoarders. I might end up on a TV show.

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Carol Burt

Former print journalist, former mayor, retired law enforcement officer. Writing about politics and government along with random personal essays.