My neighbor says she has a sickness. She's obsessed with rearranging and redecorating her home. My husband and I fondly call it "Pottery Barn" because everything always looks beautifully decorated and in place -- not like our own home with its cluttered countertops, stacks of papers and unfinished projects.

But the afternoon our neighbor came over and found me sorting shells in our garage, she said I was the one with the problem. And I admit it; I do have a problem. I can't bear throwing anything away.

I'm not a collector -- other than seashells and beach glass -- but things do tend to accumulate in our home. It's not that I covet "stuff." And, really, who would covet a garage full of plastic lids and foam trays? It's just that I always think I can make use of it.

The milk and orange juice cartons could become bird feeders. The plastic water bottle tops could make eyes, ears or noses for paper-mache creatures. The scrap wood could be the building blocks for small-scale carpentry projects.

The possibilities for my saved trash are endless; and the disease is contagious.

While walking along an ocean-front road in April, my eldest daughter picked up a broken roofing shingle and announced she was taking it home for a project. It's not the first time that a walk with her has ended up in more trash for our home.

My husband is near the breaking point.

"Come on, Catherine! When are you going to use this stuff?" he yells as I sort my shells. "There's a bag of pinecones here that you said you'd make birdfeeders out of. Here's a bag of cotton."

He doesn't mention the bags of corks he's been saving to make corkboards. His sickness is slighter.

But it seems my family is not alone. Other people have our disease.

And so it was with great interest that I recently viewed the Scrapel Hill Art Exhibit at University Mall. The pieces of art, made from scraps saved from the landfill, will be on display through the end of the month. For a dollar, you can vote for your favorite piece.

My daughters' favorites changed with each new piece they examined. In particular, my 7-year-old was fascinated by the triptych piece by Charron Andrews. "There's a belt! There's another one!" she exclaimed as we searched for all the small parts -- like buttons, CDs and belts -- that made the whole.

I loved Paul and Ginger Bauer's grandfather clock, which is made from metal objects like bicycle chains and saw blades. And I want to take home some of the tiles in Peg Gignoux's quilt-like display of rusted objects. It's hard to believe paper bags can be transformed into "fabric."

But my 4-year-old and I spent the most time with Jeannette Brossart's mosaic sculpture of a person, "We Are the Problem, We Are the Solution." For both of us, it was the color and the many items used to make the sculpture -- ceramic shards, pieces of glass bottles, shells, bottle caps, a light switch for a nose and a horseshoe mouth -- that drew us in.

But I also was heartened to see in her artist's statement that I'm not the only one who has been saving odds and ends for years, thinking they could be used one day.

I just need to use them.

Catherine Wright lives in a small home filled with treasure in Hillsborough. Write to her at catHrine.wright@gmail.com.