Collection Crisis

I have never been much of a collector.  Growing up in a transient military household we were not encouraged to have 'things'.  Just the word 'clutter' sends chills up my spine.  However, I do admire a well placed Marthaesque collection displayed just so on the cover of a magazine.  So much so that I even began to desire my own collection.  Unfortunately for me, my Spartan upbringing and nature will not allow me to collect inanimate objects that require regular dusting.  However, my constantly functioning, yet occasionally misfiring brain, recently decided to bypass my sense and reasoning and has started a collection for me.

This collection doesn't require regular dusting, nor does it take up space in my home.  At least not permanently.  It is a collection of friends.  Ahhh, doesn't that sound sweet.  Not so much.  You see I am an introvert.  Well, an extroverted introvert.  Yes, there really is such a thing.  We are a rare group of people that like being around others and always seem to have fun, but find true rejuvenation and  rest in being alone.  Most people mistake us for outgoing extroverts and at times we even manage to confuse ourselves, but we truly enjoy being alone.  Visiting and socializing is always entertaining but unfortunately it is also draining. 

The solution for living a balanced life of an extroverted introvert appears simple enough and it is also my favorite word, balance.  Go out with or have a few selected friends over to visit and enjoy my sparkling personality followed by plenty of alone time with that same sparkling personality.  This so called balance has seemed to work well over the years, perhaps leaning a little more towards time alone, but still not so bad.  Unfortunately, my desire for a collection along with my misfiring brain has caused some problems recently.  Every where I go, I can't stop myself from befriending people. Just the other day I nearly invited the post office worker I was buying stamps from over for tea.  Things have gotten out of control.  It's as if I have become one of those women whose creepy dolls have taken over the house.  To the point that when you walk in the living room they are sitting and laying all over the room.  There isn't even a spot for a real person to sit on the couch.  Not to say that the friends I have collected are creepy, well not all of them, but I have let things get out of control. 

The Spartan in me just wants to go back to the necessities of life.  One or two dear friends whose relationships provide a chance to give and receive along with plenty of time to sit in my office and stare out the window at my strange neighbor shoveling snow off the pond in the middle of a snow storm.  I don't have an answer and I'm not saying collecting friends is wrong, but it is hard to be alone when one is always inviting the world over or out.  Perhaps, if I just start picking up shot glasses from truck stops and have my husband build me a curio cabinet to place them in, I will convince my brain that we are indeed collecting something and I will once again find the balance I crave.