So I live in a four bedroom house. The fourth bedroom was always a sort of office/dumping ground for overflow clothes, crafts, pets, and dying computer equipment, but it came in really handy when my husband decided that he couldn't sleep in the same bed as me any longer (not sure why sleeping in the bed made much difference because there hadn't been any activity in the bed other than snoring, offhand comments and sighing for over ten years), but anyway, he vacated to the office to sleep on the comfort of a futon.
Later, when he vacated the house completely in a miserable rage, he left everything behind, since it is difficult to take belongings when a restraining order has been issued, and the room fell into gradual disrepair. I emptied all his clothes from the main bedroom (tied in trash bags so that the resident cat would not pee on them) into the office/man cave/cat apartment, and noticed that the room also had the shells of four computers stashed in the closet which had previously been my craft closet. My husband left for Korea for a year, no-one entered the room except to visit the cat (who suffered anger issues and could not be trusted with my soft, spoiled other shelter cats), and the room just became a desperate mess.
Well, the cat "left." To find a better home. So I have been in there cleaning the hoarding situation. The smell of cat urine is intense and quite overpowering after fifteen minutes or so, but I am highly proud of my progress. All clothes were saved, fortunately, by being previously bagged or kept in a closed walk in closet, and I simply bagged the entire stash, ten outdoor leaf bags, an took them to Goodwill. another three boxes of books, two of stuffed animals, and there are still the computer parts to donate if anyone is willing to take them.
All that is left are my husband's clothes and medical books, his desk, and whatever computer parts he wants, and that room will be ready to be claimed and cleaned.
It truly does feel like an episode of hoarders where the door is opened to a room stacked head high with boxes and garbage bags, animal feces, unknown objects, and an overwhelming hopeless feeling, along with a healthy dose of guilt, shame and bad memories. Then, after weeks of work, all done by me, I am close to reclaiming my space.
In it will be my writing desk, a treadmill, a poster of a tropical island, all the photograph albums I have ever put together, and an Ipod for awesome music. The picture window onto the Cul de sac will actually be visible again, and who knows, I may add to the blog from there once in a while.
