The Law of the Overcrowded Basement

March 28, 2020

The other day a friend asked how I was spending my time during the coronavirus lockdown. I admitted to wasting a lot of it in front of the various screens in the house. But it’s not been a total loss, I told him. I was also spending extra time in the Bible, doing some needed repairs around the house, and even cleaning out the basement.

Rick chuckled. The kind of chuckle I’d get if I’d just said I’d given up eating cookies forever. What didn’t he believe? Not the Bible reading part; we both know I need all of that I can get. Or the repairs; the house is older than I am. And then I got it. It was the basement purging drawing his skepticism. Rick, like me, is a saver. He is well aware of the futility of going against the laws of nature at work in both of our basements.

Law# 1. Nature abhors a vacuum. According to UsingEnglish.com., “this idiom is used to express the idea that empty or unfilled spaces are unnatural as they go against the laws of nature and physics.”   

There you have it. Science explains my basement. I’ve made several attempts over the years to prove the above law, and I have to say I’ve done pretty well.

I guess it’s nice to know that during these times of uncertainty some things never change.

It’s not that I’m a hoarder. (Like I’d admit it if I was.) I have gone downstairs many times with every intention of getting rid of some stuff.  Most every time, though, it ends up being just a rearrangement or rotation of everything so it looks a little neater. At least enough to keep the hoarding police away.

About a month ago Bonnie mentioned that part of the path through the basement was getting a little narrow. I went to that spot and it measured 24 inches. Being a science teacher, it made me think of red blood cells squeezing their way through a narrowing artery when I passed through it.

Bonnie wasn’t being critical. She understands the quandary only too well. She’s a saver too.

Law# 2. Murphy’s law: Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. I know; this one is not as scientific. I can’t even find any hard statistics to prove this law is accurate. But I can cite my basement.       

Here’s how it works down there. I save lumber pieces, an assortment of scrap metal, empty boxes, old magazines, and things I am not sure I can even identify. There’s stuff there I’ve found along the curb on trash day. I think it’s a man’s duty to rescue things and take them to a better place: his basement.

But my basement has no more room. That’s because I’ve learned a lesson from Mr. Murphy: Don’t throw anything out! If you save things to use later, you’ll never need them. The only time you’ll need something is if you’ve already pitched it.

Even if I defy Murphy’s Law and throw stuff out anyway, there’s Law #1 filling the void again.

No wonder Rick chuckled.

It would be cool if Laws 1 and 2 could be temporarily postponed by the governor.  Maybe then I could get some stuff cleared out and it wouldn’t just fill back up again. Even though that’s just a dream, Bonnie and I have been making a little progress. We finally threw out that ugly hurricane lamp, the one with no globe that’s been moved around ten times already. Before Bonnie tossed it, though, she made one last desperate attempt to talk me into taking it to my side of the basement. (Yes, our basement is morphing into His and Hers sides.) This time I stayed strong and said no. We’ll both wish we had it during our next hurricane, even if the winds would keep snuffing out the flame.

I suppose that if this effort dies, at least I can say I’ve been rewarded with a few sweet finds to make this isolation more bearable.

I found two giant rolls of TP in a camping supply box. This could save us a trip to the grocery.

Bonnie uncovered a politically incorrect squishy baseball to ease my sorrow that opening day was postponed. I’m not even a Cleveland fan, but we all need to come together now.

And the best is a collapsible plastic drinking cup I can fill from a fountain. How cool is that. I’ll keep it in my shirt pocket. I know—Murphy’s Law. On the day I’m dying to drink out of it, eating a giant cookie or something, I’ll be wearing the wrong shirt!