Pack-rats have a theory.  This is the theory:  As soon as you throw something in the trash, you are going to need it.  As a result a pack-rat never throws anything in the trash. 

It’s a financial thing.  If you throw something in the trash that you might use in the future, that means that you have to buy another one someday.  So, for everything you throw in the trash that you might use someday, you are, in essence, throwing away money.  That, for most of us hard-working folks is an absolute no-no. 

Last year, I sold a trombone in a garage sale only to find out my younger son was taking up marching band and needed a trombone.  I sold my college text books only to find out I needed them for reference later.  I bought a pink baby blanket when I became pregnant the first time only to have three boys in a row.  When I finally gave it away, I had a girl.

That is the reasoning behind my house being filled with an amazing array of junk.  Stuff I will probably never, ever use again, but there’s no telling when the need for something might come up.  I can’t ever see me actually wearing that old cowboy hat that I bought four years ago in Tombstone, Arizona on our cross-country trip.  It was an impulse purchase; something you just had to buy when you were in an old western town.  But someday, I might own some horses.  In which case, I’d be up a creek without a paddle if I give that hat away. 

We have an old coffee maker with a pot that allows coffee to run down the side of it and spill all over the counter when you pour coffee into a cup.  That’s why we bought a new one.  I can’t see throwing the old one away, though, because it still works after all.  What if the new coffee maker goes on the fritz?  I don’t want to have to buy yet a third coffee maker, do I?  So there it sits in the basement with a whole lot of other pack-ratted items.

My husband and I both own a musical instrument.  I own a guitar and he owns a banjo.  Neither of us has picked up our instrument in years, yet they sit in a reserved corner of our bedroom waiting for us to notice them and have the time to play them.  It hasn’t happened.  Why don’t we sell them or something?

I guess we both feel that there will come a day when we will want to play and if the instruments are not there, we will be inconsolable.  You can’t just run out and buy a new instrument whenever the mood strikes and then sell it when the mood passes, can you?  Just how would that look from a financial standpoint? 

My husband was cleaning out the basement this weekend.  I’m glad that he was doing it, because I don’t have as much fortitude for such things.  He came up white-faced from having to throw so much stuff in the trash that we might need someday.

I was trying to clean out desk drawers.  My stack of throw-outs was much smaller than his was, so I was not as traumatized as he appeared to be.  As I was going through twenty years of tax records, trying to decide which years should be kept, he came in huffing and puffing.

“If either of our son’s girlfriends becomes pregnant, I’m the one responsible,” he announced.

Being the owner of a very keen wit, I recognized this as a moment of possible life-altering importance.  I stopped everything, looked him square in the eyes and said, “Huh?”  My wit was functioning perfectly but I thought perhaps my hearing had failed me.

“Yeah,” he said.  “I just threw out our baby crib.”   Well, yes, using the Pack-rat theory, that would, indeed, make him responsible.

You can reach Laura at lsnyder@lauraonlife.com Or visit her website www.lauraonlife.com for more columns and info about her new book.