Day Three Hundred Forty Seven

The Laundry Room

Mainly because I needed mountain climbing gear to enter my laundry room, I suited up and decided to tackle Mt. Apple Tree. It soon became apparent, I should have also worn haz-mat gear (details to follow.) 

Because we live in Florida and do not have a basement to clutter, stuff goes into places like spare bedrooms, the garage and - the laundry room. Ours became so piled up I took my life into my hands every time I ventured in there to wash clothes. Also, the washer and dryer were piled with stuff - so much so - I had to twist and contort to turn on the dryer. I wish I was kidding.

Anyway, yes, I am a borderline hoarder. Now being a hoarder can be genetic. My parents were. My mother had a collection of Tupperware dating back to the first pieces made from toxins back in the 50's. That she never cooked, let alone saved leftovers, made having so much of it a mystery.

I have my own issues. I save stuff like receipts and old bags - just in case. I apparently also buy stuff and forget about it. I do that often based on the treasures I found.

I also hate to throw anything away - probably because the day after I do, someone comes looking for it. And, I honestly plan on fixing broken things. Especially if it is a broken thing with some sentimental value.

For example - there is an English bone china teapot, with a gaping hole where the spout used to be - thanks to a careless cleaning person - given to me by a dear friend from long ago. He would be the first person to call me an idiot for not throwing it away, and say, "Dear girl, shall we just buy you a new one?" But he's gone and I cry when I see that teapot. I'm crying now...

So, see, I confess to being a hoarder and a sentimental mush ball. But I am now older and weaker and wracked with pain. When I was younger, if I fell over my stuff, I just got back up, brushed myself off and kept going. These days, I can sprain my wrist flushing the toilet!  

What does this have to do with animals? Plenty. For example - Dash and Boo! think the Holy Grail is in there. They venture forth, like tiny Indiana Jones' searching for the Ark of the Covenant.

They slink in and immediately go in and around the maze until they vanish out of sight. It is similar to watching a snake slither into a hole. Once they disappear into the nether regions of clothes and boxes and shoes and whatnots, they're impossible to find. I just close the door and wait a few minutes until they get tired of being among all that worthless junk in the dark. 

It also became disgustingly obvious someone, at some point in time, was using the area under the shelves as a potty. At least I think that's what happened, although I can't imagine how since the space underneath is about two inches high. It was yellow and sticky and quite a mess.

Oddly, there was no odor which means it was either there so long it lost it's scent, or it was something else entirely, like a residue from an alien life form. (I told you, we binged watched all nine seasons of the X Files.) I didn't care. I cleaned it up and moved on.

I found old dog and cat toys, Steelers scarves for the dogs (thought I tossed those,) slippers I forgot I owned and boxes of memorabilia. One of those boxes contained a picture of my grandmother with her beloved dog, Belle. Oh, and another picture of my father next to a horse that looked exactly like my Poco. He was in the army, so it was probably circa 1940's.


So, the laundry room is a laundry room once again. There is a clear path to the washer and dryer. It has been de-cluttered, de-catpeed (?) and organized. I'm waiting for the call from a kid asking me where such and such is....They have until Wednesday when the trash is picked up.

Our closet is next. That should be fun. On the top shelf is a box labeled, "Mother/Daughter dresses" - I'll just go ahead and start crying now. Maybe by the time I get to their baby pictures, I'll be all cried out...