Aims,

I believe caution is your friend. You get points from me. It isn't currency though.

le n., it was my damn house, and she was renting it. She was living downstairs, and there were other renters upstairs who were almost as bad as she was. They had 9 animals in the house and apparently never cleaned. She... well. She'd been a friend of mine, in fact had lived with me for three years, some years before that, and I'd thought, who better to rent to than someone you already know? I mean, I knew she was a bit of a slob, but whatever. Then the rent stopped coming, and then the renters disappeared, and I had to go back to Tennessee to find out WTF was going on.

The house was AWFUL. Fossilized cat poo an inch thick on the floor. 16 leaking bags of stinky garbage in the foyer. Cigarette butts and ashes spilling out of an ashtray *on the bed*. Rotting food in molding dishes piled so high in the sink some of them had fallen out and broken. Piles of junk and worn clothing and trash everywhere. Don't even think about the bathroom, the toilet had clogged at some point and... just don't think about it. The only thing an episode of Hoarders has that she didn't was actual dead animals. (The cats were unhappy, but alive and basically well.)

As far as I can put it together, because she never communicated with me again, she lost her job and then just hid in the house and didn't come out again. I don't think she'd completely broken with reality, I think she just could not deal anymore. She just walked away from everything. Literally: I saw her walking away as I drove up, and she didn't respond to my greeting; I thought she would be back later but she didn't come back. (Turned out she'd moved back to her grandma's place in Nebraska. The other guys were in the wind, and I was out about $3000.) Going after her seemed pointless. So I had to take care of the house and the cats she left behind. (I gave them to my mom, and they lived the rest of their years as farm cats.)

So. Like I said. Whatever your house looks like? I've seen worse. If you can clean up the mess without a shovel and a face mask, I've cleaned worse. Cat barf? psht. That can be cleaned up with a paper towel. I won't leave it for too long*, but I won't jump out of bed for it either.

*If I know about it. Look, sometimes they barf behind boxes and you don't find it for weeks, okay? And then you have to repaint a door. It happens. I love my cats; they are affectionate and beautiful and GETDOWNFROMTHERENOW

I once had to go into a hoarder's house. It's real hard to clear the bar that set for unacceptable levels of cleanliness.

I am not Zen, but I totally endorse this sentiment and actually have an amazing story to prove it. The story involves a Pulitzer nominee and a buried Barcalounger.

I've never judged anyone's cleanliness harshly after that.

I love my cats; they are affectionate and beautiful and GETDOWNFROMTHERENOW

Hee.

Followed by HOWTHEHELLDIDYOUGETUPTHERE

Tim, predictably, loves Dita

Steph, does Tim have her book "The Art of the Teese"? Because I have it and would like to give it a new home.

The story involves a Pulitzer nominee and a buried Barcalounger.

I believe I've heard this story! And I think you win; my house wasn't literally filled to the ceiling with junk.

OMG Zenkitty.

Three thoughts:

1) that will teach me to ask for a narrative. Curiosity killed that cat. DED.

2) Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. I can't believe you didn't just say "fuck it" and light the house on fire. I am just shaking my head.

3) Zenkitty's story actually improved my mood. I am kind of messy sometimes, but DAMN. At least you can get into my house without a facemask!

Look, sometimes they barf behind boxes and you don't find it for weeks, okay? And then you have to repaint a door. It happens.

Oh dear lord. The Mystery Of The Hidden Hairball. Whenever I find one of these, I get murderous. Which makes no sense, because hairballs out on the open don't make me angry. It's just a thing.

Tim, predictably, loves Dita

Steph, does Tim have her book "The Art of the Teese"? Because I have it and would like to give it a new home.

I don't think so, but I will double-check when I get home and then I'll let you know.

Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. I can't believe you didn't just say "fuck it" and light the house on fire.

I was thinking that, too. Literally, the word "Arson!" popped into my head.

le nubian:

1) I TRIED to spare you! Not real hard, but I tried.

2) The temptation to commit arson was very strong. Especially considering that time in my life was one of my own low points for "dealing with shit". More than once I just sat down and cried. I cleaned up as best I could, because I couldn't afford to hire anyone, and then I sold it to a vulture investor. I made $75 profit on that house, which I'd owned for a decade. If I could have sold it for a comparable price to other houses around it, I'd have made $10,000. C'est la vie.

3) My point! Everyone judges housekeeping ability by what they know. I'm just expanding your field of reference.

I am not Zen, but I totally endorse this sentiment and actually have an amazing story to prove it. The story involves a Pulitzer nominee and a buried Barcalounger.

Oh! I was reading through old COMMs just yesterday and came across this one!