The Unbearable Lightness of the Return

I like returning things. It brings me an enormous sense of relief and almost, dare I say it, a high. This is partly due to the fact that I'm cheap. Spending money makes me nervous. But the true underlying impetus is that I get off on feeling unfettered. I'm a freedom junkie with an almost physiological need to purge. My shopping trips are roundtrip: I almost never escape a purchasing excursion without a return trip scheduled for the not-too-distant future.

My mother is a bit of a hoarder. To this day, she won't let anyone into the basement as it's so full of stuff. She lives in a three bedroom house with a full footprint basement and every room is at saturation point. She's definitely not a full-blown hoarder. Nothing to Oprah-expose levels or anything like that. But the woman certainly clings to things and feels physical stress at parting with even old magazines or well-worn clothes.

It doesn't take more than a semester of Psych 101 to draw the connection here. Many of us feel compelled to remake ourselves in the inverse image of our parents, and I am no exception. Material possessions equal burdens. So I unburden myself.

I am in the process of buying a wee house. Not a small house, mind you. A wee house; an almost midget house weighing in at a mighty 810 square feet on the main floor with additional basement space. I'm beyond thrilled about this, yet cautiously thrilled as our inspection won't happen until tomorrow. It's so cute you could puke at the cuteness. It's hobbit meets hello kitty with all the class and sass of old Hollywood and art deco. It's both old and moderne--a cozy hidey hole perfectly proportioned with curves in all the right places. And soon it will be mine!

But as mentioned, I'm a compulsive returner. So what am I doing? I'm continuing to scout the house ads every day, just to torture myself. Is there anything else? What else is out there? I feel a manic need to compare and contrast. Just in case. My itchy trigger finger longs to release, daring me to back out, to run before it's too late. But like many a well-chosen Target purchase before it, my gut tells me this house is staying with me. It's already chiseling out a little castle-shaped hole in my heart.

And if we buy it, if we really truly buy it, I'm already excited about all the purging of my possessions I'll get to do before we move in. A small house demands disciplined streamlining of objects. I can hardly wait!