This is from a Tumblr I follow, and YES.
“What IS all this stuff and who put it here?”
“You live by yourself, dummy. YOU put it here.”
“That’s absurd. It was gnomes. Hoarder gnomes. Sneaky little fuckers.”
I told a friend that I was cleaning my apartment because I have “hoarder paranoia,” and he asked me to define it. This is what I sent him:
“Hoarder paranoia: State of mind resulting from lifelong exposure to too much clutter among family members, seeming to worsen with age. Hoarder paranoia is characterized by compulsive purging of closets, bookshelves, and piles of mail, all in an effort to counteract hereditary packrattage.
“Being in a room with too much stuff results in a vague anxiety and sometimes physiological symptoms. Those afflicted can watch no more than 10 minutes of Hoarders before they have to clean something — anything.
“Anti-hoarders are complete buzzkills about holiday decor, because they just don’t want all that SHIT in their house. Even holiday-themed kitchen towels are too much effort– the Easter bunny towels will be out in November, guaranteed. Anti-hoarders get asked what they want for Christmas and send only a list of store gift cards so they don’t have anything in their dwelling that they didn’t select on their own. (See also: ‘persnickety asshole.’)
“The condition is more evident among women, because women are supposed to be innately savvy about decor, and love froofy pillows and cheery knickknacks. The anti-hoarder mantra is ‘Knickknacks? Fuck that.'”
Smug Singleton 