I think I get most of my hoarder tendencies from my dad. Growing up he had claimed the garage as this quasar for every item that went unused and any emotions tied to it. A mountain bike and a blown knee tossed in tandem into the sea of the ideological backbone of suburban America. He just kept buying and tossing and buying his paycheck seemingly only going to more stuff to be thrown out as more and more bad things kept happening. Many times I would find myself in there with him organizing against the sea in vain with the air tense and conversation sparse and I spectated the closest thing he would allow himself to get to emotional release. As I transition I find myself more and more like my dad in very annoying ways. I like basketball now when I couldnt bring myself to sit on the sweat producing leather couches and watch a Hoosiers game with him. I would always hear him downstairs hooting and hollering only to pitter down the stairs and see him stood up decked out in black exercize shorts and red shorts with a color matching coke zero can in his hand radiating a smell I can only describe as him. Some mix of sweat, cheap cologne, and dove hairgel. Everyone I've asked has told me I dont have a signature scent. I stand up in excitement when the Suns pulled off 1 of their 43 wins last season all the same.