- Joined
- Jul 22, 2015
My hoarder friend is refusing to take my calls today.
On Sunday I went and helped her finish getting her clothes out of her old place (so. many. clothes. The pile was literally to my waist and that wasn't even half of what she owned, and a hefty percentage of it was designer too). Bags upon bags of clothes. She'd planned to be out of that house by Thursday, and on Sunday we were still going.
Myself and another friend of hers who'd been helping her tried to talk to her about decluttering and pruning your possessions to fit your living space. The epiphanies that had shaken her the night before appeared to have worn off, and she was merely sullen and hostile. I said, if there's a fire, you'll never get out. She said, there won't be a fire, and was quite insistent on that.
When it was finally all done she was very tired and I parked her on a lounge chair facing the kitchen so she could watch me unpack. Boxes and boxes of cake decorating materials, tubes and tubs of edible gunk and glitter, years and years out of date... two years, five years, ten years out of date and she was actually feeding other people this stuff because "it was expensive" and she didn't want to buy more. I was able to strong arm her into letting me throw the stuff that was out of date out but she made me set aside the shit with no dates on it, even though they were obviously many years old too. We clashed badly on the things that were only just out of date. Yes, they were only just out of date now, but by the time she got around to using them, they'd be a lot out of date. I couldn't seem to get that idea across. I did talk her into letting me throw some rusty cake tins out so that was a win.
Then the boxes of Tupperware were thrust forth. Tupperware with a capital 'T' because it's the real thing, of course... and there were so. many. boxes. of. Tupperware. Boxes and boxes of brightly coloured plastic just kept coming and coming and it got to the point where I nearly in tears because the cupboards were stuffed with unused Tupperware, there was cockroach shit all over it, and there were all these boxes marked 'kitchen' still to unpack, all stuffed full of more fucking Tupperware, that had never once been used except as a cockroach's designated shitting street. It was 8:30pm and I was absolutely wrecked and was sore and sorry all over.
I'd planned to spend the night and do some more work in the morning, but I was so utterly demoralised I couldn't stay.
And then on Monday, I got a testy text from my friend that rust isn't dangerous on cake tins and that she was going to retrieve the ones I'd talked her into throwing out from the rubbish bin because otherwise they'd cost hundreds of dollars to replace. I'm genuinely afraid that she might have also taken the opportunity to rescue some of her out of date cake decorations at the same time.
And tonight, she's not talking to me at all.
Hmm.
On Sunday I went and helped her finish getting her clothes out of her old place (so. many. clothes. The pile was literally to my waist and that wasn't even half of what she owned, and a hefty percentage of it was designer too). Bags upon bags of clothes. She'd planned to be out of that house by Thursday, and on Sunday we were still going.
Myself and another friend of hers who'd been helping her tried to talk to her about decluttering and pruning your possessions to fit your living space. The epiphanies that had shaken her the night before appeared to have worn off, and she was merely sullen and hostile. I said, if there's a fire, you'll never get out. She said, there won't be a fire, and was quite insistent on that.
When it was finally all done she was very tired and I parked her on a lounge chair facing the kitchen so she could watch me unpack. Boxes and boxes of cake decorating materials, tubes and tubs of edible gunk and glitter, years and years out of date... two years, five years, ten years out of date and she was actually feeding other people this stuff because "it was expensive" and she didn't want to buy more. I was able to strong arm her into letting me throw the stuff that was out of date out but she made me set aside the shit with no dates on it, even though they were obviously many years old too. We clashed badly on the things that were only just out of date. Yes, they were only just out of date now, but by the time she got around to using them, they'd be a lot out of date. I couldn't seem to get that idea across. I did talk her into letting me throw some rusty cake tins out so that was a win.
Then the boxes of Tupperware were thrust forth. Tupperware with a capital 'T' because it's the real thing, of course... and there were so. many. boxes. of. Tupperware. Boxes and boxes of brightly coloured plastic just kept coming and coming and it got to the point where I nearly in tears because the cupboards were stuffed with unused Tupperware, there was cockroach shit all over it, and there were all these boxes marked 'kitchen' still to unpack, all stuffed full of more fucking Tupperware, that had never once been used except as a cockroach's designated shitting street. It was 8:30pm and I was absolutely wrecked and was sore and sorry all over.
I'd planned to spend the night and do some more work in the morning, but I was so utterly demoralised I couldn't stay.
And then on Monday, I got a testy text from my friend that rust isn't dangerous on cake tins and that she was going to retrieve the ones I'd talked her into throwing out from the rubbish bin because otherwise they'd cost hundreds of dollars to replace. I'm genuinely afraid that she might have also taken the opportunity to rescue some of her out of date cake decorations at the same time.
And tonight, she's not talking to me at all.
Hmm.
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