Dear FML,
 
Yesterday, Julie wrote
>If anyone else among you is living with a hoarder, please share some
>advice or comfort.  I love my Sned dearly, but it is becoming clear that
>he has a problem."
 
Evidently, the above-mentioned Sned the Ferret has, to date, nearly forty
stuffed animals in his possession.
 
Julie, hon, while it is possible that some individuals can collect that
many stuffies in safety, the most recent statistics from Hallmark House,
a recovery center for people who have lost all voluntary control of their
ability to refrain from hoarding 'keepsakes', and 'collectibles', suggest
otherwise.  The common pattern is for the hoarder to slowly amass a large
collection, then begin to acquire them faster and faster in grotesque
numbers, until the psychic wheels roll off of their buggies entirely!
 
A case in point is my sister in law, Jenn, henceforth known as Jenn C.
(Sigh.)  Where did it all go wrong for her?  It began in childhood, I
think.  A few stuffies here and there, nothing that looked out of the
ordinary, I mean all kids have them, right?  Not Jenn.  Not ones to call
her own, really.  You see, Jenn was the youngest of three children, and
most of hers were hand-me-downs.  I think that this damaged her somehow,
set up a harmonic vibration in her soul that has swelled over the years,
and now threatens to shake her world apart!
 
First stuffies..., then, tragically, beanies.  Yes, beanie bears.  Not
just any bear, mind you, she suffers from DCD, Disney Collectable
Disorder, and now has literally HUNDREDS of beanie Poohs.  As in Winnie
the Pooh.  Her room is floor to ceiling crammed with them, the door
bulges on its' hinges trying to contain the flood of yellow-furred little
b******s.  Classic poohs, with or without hunny pots.  Psychedelic hippie
Poohs in bandanas.  Statue of Liberty Poohs with fuzzy little torches.
Rainbow fairy Poohs with gossamer wings.  Disco Poohs glittering with
faux sequins.
 
Clean the lint-trap of Jenn's dryer and what comes out?  Yellow Pooh fuzz
and tiny, half-melted little plastic pellets by the hundreds.
 
Yes, she has tried to cut down, or cut back, but however you describe her
desperate attempts to put the brakes on, but the Poohs remain.  Sometimes
after one of these self-imposed exiles from the nearest Disney store at
the Solomon Pond Mall ends (yet again) in failure, I can hear her crying
at night alone in her room.  Not alone really, six thousand beady, black
little beanie eyes regard her suffering with utter indifference.
 
The worst times have been when I've found her dazed, wandering the house
with a big plastic bag of white fluffy, machine spun craft stuffing, the
kind you can buy at any Wal-Mart.  (If those people only knew the
suffering they've caused our home...)
 
Julie, please get help for Sned the Ferret now.  Right now, if you really
love him.  (Hallmark House has a website, surf for it NOW, girl!  GO!!)
 
Alexandra in Massachusetts
[Posted in FML issue 4187]