Turning Hoarded Supplies into Collections

From Hoard to Collection: The Simple Shift That Changes Everything

Do you hoard anything? Do you? Is it an obsession; is it something you've quietly justified to yourself for years? Is it laziness or is it intentional? Does your hoard drive your spouse crazy?

All of these questions point to something very human: our ability to gather stuff, typically through purchases, and to place that stuff "in our possession" somewhere we feel we can control. When you name it plainly like that, it becomes a first-world problem almost immediately. You cannot collect purchases if you don't have money; you cannot keep this stuff "in your possession" if you don't have a location you own; and you cannot keep this stuff if you do not have the space to store it. Privilege is baked into the very act of accumulating.

So what separates a collection from a hoard? The distinction feels important; maybe more important than we give it credit for.

Collections are thought out; they are arranged and organized; they are looked at, admired, and gathered from time to time and genuinely appreciated. Or, as Marie Kondo might say, "collections spark joy."

Hoards are something else entirely. Hoards are not thought out; they can be perceived as completely random. Hoards are not arranged; they are shoved in a corner, strewn about, piles of paper without order. Hoards are rarely retrieved and looked at; they are not admired. And they can bring a sense of shame to the person keeping them; they bring embarrassment when guests come over and might catch a glimpse of the hidden pile. Hoards are never appreciated; their owners try to hide them. And the hoarded supplies rarely spark joy.

The real question, then, is this: what can you do to transition a hoard from a source of embarrassment into a source of pride and joy? And can you make this process fun?

Consider a collection of hoarded plastic bowls. Perhaps you have a collection of them; some lids are missing, some lids do not have the bowl, different colors exist, different sizes are available. This is a hoard.

Here is what you do. Lay out all of the plastic bowls; find the matching pairs of lids to bowls; find the matching types; find the matching colors. Ask the question: "Which bowls spark joy for me?" Ask the same for types and colors. The non-matching pairs can be donated or disposed of; you have not used them for years, and you will not use them in the future. Consider the replacement value; you can go to your local store and pick up a collection of ten bowls for $20. Don't worry about it.

You just transitioned your plastic bowl hoard into a plastic bowl collection that is usable and sparks joy. Congratulations.

There is a difference between a hoard and a collection. A hoard is random, unorganized, and hidden; it lives in the back of the cabinet, the bottom of the drawer, the folder on your desktop labeled "misc." A collection, by contrast, is intentional, organized, and admired; it sparks joy every time you encounter it. The distance between the two is not measured in objects; it is measured in awareness.

Let's be honest with ourselves: accumulation is, in many ways, a first-world problem. It takes resources to acquire things; it takes space to keep them. Most of us have both, at least enough to let things pile up quietly without immediate consequence. And so they do. A shelf fills; a closet deepens; a hard drive swells with files whose names no longer mean anything. We are not careless people; we are busy people, and there is a difference. But busy lives, left unexamined, tend to produce hoards.

This can be done for your workspace; this can be done for your drawers; and this can be done for your life. Keep what you want; make sure it sparks joy; turn it into a collection; get rid of the random, hoarded supplies. The shift is smaller than it seems; and it starts with an honest reply to a double question: “is this a collection or a hoard? And, does this spark joy?”