Films and literature have adapted the subterranean depths of our homes as repositories for all sorts of monsters, some with two legs and some with too many to count. Let us not forget the English classic: “Beast in The Cellar,” where two old respectable ladies keep an even older secret about a hungry uncle who lives in the basement of their townhouse and eats only dinner guests. The shriveled remains of Norman Bates’s mom still lurk somewhere in the fruit cellar of that very strange house on Psychopath Hill, and Edgar Allen Poe committed the perfect murder by locking a man up in a wine cellar in the terrifying short story, “The Cask of Amontillado”.
In reality, most basements tell their own particular brand of horror tale, blending clutter with bad smells, darkness, things that creep and crawl and last but not least, very bad housekeeping. I do not have one in my own home and that is just as well, for I am afflicted with “clutteritis”. Whatever that is or isn’t, basements do nothing to alleviate the condition. They have become catch-all, out of the way receptacles for everything there seems to be no other place for. For some, that may even include annoying children and former spouses. The condition can be treated and its symptoms alleviated, but there is, alas, no cure. (The scientist who was working on one got locked in his own basement and died of clutter asphyxiation.)
Basement clutter is very different from any other kind. It’s a whole different smoke, as they say. It’s almost like comparing rotting apples to rotting elephants and that, my friends, is the very first discrepancy. Basement clutter is much bigger and bulkier than the good old regular kind. (It is usually about as big as your basement, in fact.) Sofas with three legs, broken stoves and beds, light fixtures and ponderous armchairs can all be stored there, gathering mountains of dust until the day you really can’t put off till tomorrow what you can do today. Survival in the basement is limited to the myriad of little beasties that make their home there. It is a private place that can be locked, if necessary, to prevent nosy guests from wandering too close to the abyss.
Cellars and basements probably all started innocently enough. Wine cellars, fruit cellars and even Peter and best sellers all have their place in one’s home. The problem is that they perpetrate the delusion that placement there is temporary until the time comes to either give or throw away the item in question. That never happens. The item, no matter how large, just gets shoved back to make way for the next thing that needs a temporary but hidden home away from the prying, disapproving eyes of Dear Abby, Martha Stewart and Emily Post.
What is the difference between a cellar and a basement? Good question. According to Mr. Daniel Webster, a basement is “ that part of a building that is wholly or partly below ground level.” A cellar is defined very helpfully as “a basement.” Alas and alack, there seems to be no difference between the two. The issue, however, is much deeper than definitions and rests at eye level. That’s the purpose basements serve because what others see can really bother you. It doesn’t matter if you know it is there, whatever “it” is. Out of sight can be out of mind for a little while and it really is no one‘s business but your own if part of the piano was used for firewood and you had no place else to keep the rest of it!
If I ever clean things out entirely will my life change? Will I find happiness with everything having a place and everything being in its place? Maybe, maybe not. Who really knows? Only one spirit and one truth remains as nagging an answer as a hangnail.
The basement clutter bogeyman that’s who!
What’s in YOUR Basement?