HOARDERS

I LOVE this show. It is fascinating and repulsive. I can't watch new episodes, it comes on at 10:00 (way too late for my tired old ass), so I watch it On Demand. I guess these people have some mental disorder that makes it impossible for them to throw anything away. In most cases, they lost something at some point in their lives, and this caused them to start saving EVERYTHING. Like, "My dad left when I was 5, so now I have this mountain of crusty paper plates and used kleenex to fill the void."
My fave was one with this crazy rhino of a dude and his chain smoking wife. They had to remove over 50 firearms and knives from his house before they could come in to clean. They had a big argument during the show, and right in the middle of it, completely off subject, he shouts "Oh will you just go get me a pickle!" "NO, I will not go get you a pickle!" she fires back. Later it shows the cleaning crew (all wearing gloves and face masks) emptying out the fridge. One of the first items tossed? None other than the pickle jar. Symbolic? I like to think so. The jar is their house and life, murky and containing a stench that will make your mouth fill with saliva and your eyes burn. And they are the pickles, previously crisp and fresh, but now shriveled and sour- puckered, bitter versions of their former selves. Or not. Maybe I just hate pickles.
Since I've been watching this outstanding program, I've decided there are a few houses in my area that are HIGHLY suspect of being hoarder homes. I wish I could get a look inside of them. There's the creepy dude with the two bright yellow cars and like 40 cats milling around in the front yard and driveway. I run by it, and I'm positive that he has crap piled to his ceiling.
Then there's the people with all of the appliances and old furniture crowding their front porch.
But those are the obvious places. You can't always judge the inside of the house by the outside. For example, my ex-boyfriend's mom's house looked neat and tidy on the outside. His smarmy stepdad took really good care of the lawn, there was landscaping and flowers, yadda yadda. You'd never know it was a regular obstacle course and death trap on the on the inside, littered with dog poop land mines, giant underwear lurking in the cracks of the sofa waiting to pounce, and mutant, man eating cockroaches.
Then there's my house. If you went by the overgrown bushes (with the occasional dead one thrown in), weed-riddled lawn, and shaggy sidewalks, you'd think it was a regular dumpster with windows. I'm no Betty Homemaker, but I do try to keep things half-way decent. Although I can see the potential for becoming a hoarder....
For instance- water bottles. I drink a lot of bottled water, but I have a hard time keeping track of the one I'm drinking. I probably rarely finish a whole one, because I can never remember where I put it. Then if I find one I'm like "Is this really mine? And if it is, is it from now or a couple days ago?" When I go to bed I always bring my current bottle with me, and take maybe another swig or two before lights out. When morning arrives, I decide it's too old now, it has been sitting there growing God knows what all night. So I leave it there. I've probably accumulated up to 12 bottles on my night stand at one time before finally emptying them into the dog's water dish. When I bring my new one, I simply shove the rest of the group far right, so I don't confuse my new one with any of the old ones. Come sun up, that bottle joins the rest of the backwash brigade. It's weird, like some beverage mental block.
Aaron has potential too. He likes to buy random, useless items from yard sales. A woman's scuba suit. A fireman's outfit. A unicycle. Have you ever tried to ride one of those things?! Impossible!
He also brings home bicycles that he finds abandoned on the side of the road if they look like they only need minor repair.
So who knows? In twenty years, you may see us on a show like Hoarders. Reese and Tatum, trying to live their own lives and ashamed of their crraazzy parents, contact the program for an emergency intervention, following an incident where they couldn't reach me for two days, only to find I had become trapped under an avalanche of water bottles. At least I wouldn't die of thirst. (actually I probably would, afraid to ingest the ancient H2O). Aaron never even knew I was missing, through all of the towers and layers of junk (and with the hood of his scuba suit muffling sounds), he didn't hear me yelling for help. And when he's training one of his chickens to ride the unicycle, he tends to shut the rest of the world out....