Kids…I may have lost my mind.
In a couple weeks you all can laugh and point and say “I told you so!”
Do you remember what Mama’s house looks like?
Under that pile is her bed. And this photo is at least two years old, so it’s probably even worse now. Over the years, every family member and friend has offered to pitch in and help Mama with her house. Last summer, one of my uncles went by to do just that, and after eight hours he left with less than one full trash bag of stuff. Mama has asked for my help over the years, too. And I’ve offered it on one condition.
We do it my way.
Well, that went over like a fart in the elevator with Mama. In her mind, it’s always been necessary to go through every pile of ill fitting, dated hootchie wear in her house…God forbid someone toss out a sweater dress that has sentimental value.
I simply don’t have two years to devote to hearing about the time she met a recovering alcoholic in those particular bobby socks, so I’ve let it be known that when she is ready to do it my way, I’m her huckleberry.
And she’s finally decided. So next week, I am taking a few days off from work and heading to West By God Virginia to shovel out her hovel. I have two trucks lined up, a handful of volunteers, and a plan. Two colors of trash bags, one for the dump, and one for Goodwill. Fill one truck with trash and one with donatables, rinse and repeat as necessary until I can see the floor.
I’ve told her she CAN NOT be there. I know enough not to toss things of actual use or value (sentimental or otherwise) but as far as I’m concerned, she lost her say in the matter at the point she basically made herself homeless with her garbage.