My husband’s last wife was seriously depressed during the last years of her life and turned into a hoarder. Hey, If I was dying of cancer, I’d be pretty depressed as well. Thanks to their housekeeper, everything was neatly tucked away in closets and unused rooms.
After we got married, I ignored the boxes full of junk for about a year, because it felt disrespectful. Finally, I asked my beloved butthead if I could start dealing with it. He thought it was a great idea and thanked me for doing it because he just couldn’t.
Sometimes we had “discussions” about stuff I’d put in boxes to take out…“Hey, those are perfectly good sheets, I can give them to the line men!” “No they aren’t, look, they are threadbare…didn’t you just buy someone on the line new sheets because you could see through the sheets his wife had hanging on the line?” “Well, yeah.”
“Wait, those Teflon pans with scrapes to the metal on them should go to a thrift store!” “Back when I was poor, I wouldn’t have spent a quarter on these, I’m not going to make the thrift store people pay to have them hauled away.” Finally, I learned to not show him what I was disposing of, and he learned to not look in the boxes.
I set a goal to clean out a small area once a week. Some of the stuff went to the thrift stores, some went to the rescue center and most went to the trash.
FINALLY, today, I was done. Our home was clutter free. Hurray, GO FLATLINED!!!
When I opened a bottle of wine to celebrate with him, he went to the key box and handed me the keys to TWO FUCKING STORAGE UNITS full of stuff. I think he will survive, but only because the wine bottle was open when I started beating him with it and splashed all over my face so I couldn’t see which way he was running.