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I come from a family with a mild case of hoarding. I love the sentimental things that I own. Clutter is kind of a way of life. But what happens when you finally move most of your stuff out of your parents house and realize you have no place to put it? When you are moving and your find stuff that you haven’t seen since you moved?

My mom will be the first to tell you how hard I am on her about all of the stuff we have accumulated since we moved into that house sixteen years ago.  When my grandma announced that we were having Thanksgiving at my mom’s house, I took it upon myself to use that as an excuse to clean their house. We started with the clutter in the kitchen closet, otherwise known as the “closet of doom.” The closet wasn’t necessarily as bad as I thought, but we found stuff from my childhood. My Easy Bake Oven was buried in the back of the closet. It was an adventure. An adventure that my mom even wrote about in the local paper.

After spending the holiday season helping my parents clean their house, I was amazed to come home and realize that I am slowly on the same path as my parents.