Back to Square One

It seems a certificate of insurance and a detailed quote are too much to ask.  Another service is coming on Tuesday morning. It's $200 for the initial visit and that goes toward to job.  I don't like that but my hands are tied.  I need this over and done with so I'm really angry that I have to start over.  Fuck people.  I realize it is no one else's fault I got myself into this situation but I really feel some people are out to prey on the desperate.  I'm sorry I was dead inside for four years.  I'm sorry there is something wrong with my brain.  That doesn't mean I will be taken advantage of.

Meanwhile the cold is significantly better so my overnight waste mitigation needs to continue tonight along with laundry.  Hopefully I don't get sleepy and tempted to curl up and sleep.  I've been sleeping nights because I've been sick the last 6 days or so and because this was getting cleaned next week.  I have to resume the old schedule. I hate this. 

Why Can't Things Be Simple?

So I still have received no Certificate of Insurance or revised quote that states the haul-away  is included.  Apparently this is asking for the Moon. It's two pieces of paper that take about ten minutes to put together.  So now I'm getting grief from my mother because these have not yet been provided and grief from the cleaning guy because no one has ever asked for this before and "the people advising you have convinced you not to trust anyone."  The irony here is that my parents closed on this property without having an inspector seeing if it was up to electrical codes and the cleaning guy, who is offended I'm asking for proof of insurance and a detailed quote, won't invoice the job because he doesn't trust a personal check not to bounce. And here I am in the middle, still sick, needing to clear out the bathroom waste and weak, exhausted, stressing about my neighbors and the tuck-pointers.  I just want this over with.    

Sick or Allergic?

Ugh! I've been sidelined by this cold or allergy outbreak or perhaps both.  I've slept the last three-four nights because I feel like absolute crap.  I think it's a cold from the windstorm last week aggravated by the dust I've been stirring up during cleaning attempts and the mold and ragweed in the outside air this week. 

Bags out - none.
Bags filled - several.
Estimate - check (going with a cleaning service that will do the whole job for $5,000)
Certificate of Insurance - forthcoming
Revised quote (that says the haul away is included in the price) - forthcoming
Lightbulbs purchased - check
Paths cleared - in progress
Cat staying elsewhere - check

I'm so tired but I can't wait to get my life back.  I really hope the tuck-pointing crew is done by then.  And I hope even more that Annie Wilkes stays away during all this. I just want my life back. 

Digging

Digging

by Seamus Heaney

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; as snug as a gun.

Under my window a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

By God, the old man could handle a spade,
Just like his old man.

My grandfather could cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner's bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, digging down and down
For the good turf. Digging.

The cold smell of potato mold, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I've no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I'll dig with it.


- from Death of a Naturalist (1966)

Ugh

So I talked to the "Clutter Specialist" yesterday.  Based on a long conversation, this is approximately a $5,000 job.  I was thinking closer to ten, to be honest, but I've no idea if she's considering plumbing cost.  They also will not start with my bathroom in the condition it's in.  So...I have my work cut out for me.  Naturally, I have come down with a cold.  I thought it was allergies (and it partially might be) but it really does now feel like a cold and has already slowed me down significantly.  I just want to sleep.  I made one trip down this morning with 5 bags.  Yesterday morning I made three trips and took down eight bags, a ruined laptop backpack and a couple of boxes.  I was to make three trips this morning but I just feel too bad.  It's nearly 5:30am and people are getting up.  The sun should be rising shortly.  I think she wants to start next week but I don't know how ready I'll be.  I'm thinking the last week of September, considering I have to do the dirty work myself.

So:  I need to find the hallway floor again; clear, vacuum and clean.
       Find any cat mess and dispose of.
       Get bio waste out of the bathroom and into dumpster.
       Resume bagging anything that can be bagged.

Edit:  I think I'm going another way.  I think $2,500 down, $2,500 the first day of work and daily payments if it goes over $5,000 is unreasonable for someone that wants me to do so much of the work before she'll even start. I called another cleaning service and the guy seems less condescending and more willing to be discreet.  He also mentioned a six-room apartment with ten years of accumulation that he did for $3,500.  I'm hoping to fall in under that.  He's coming in the morning to look at the job.

Paranoia Sucks

M y original diagnoses were: 
Major (read: severe, chronic) Depression, Panic Disorder and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
Later added:  Paranoid Personality Disorder, Avoidant Personality Disorder, Social Anxiety Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder.

At one point I needed two beers and a Xanax just to get out of the house and be social;  I wouldn't say I was relaxed, either.   It was a VERY small dose of Xanax on an as-needed basis.  I think each refill was only six pills or so and I think I only refilled it once.  That was 2002.

I abruptly stopped seeing my therapist about 18 months ago.  Once every eight weeks was becoming pointless as I wasn't so depressed except due to this hoarding nonsense that I was too embarrassed to tell her about.  Plus, by the time I was done with all that had happened between appointments, time was up.  Not quite worth it or necessary at that point, since I really knew what my problem was and needed to modify my behavior.  You could say that after 8 years of therapy, I had out-shrinked my shrink.  This is not to say I won't see another therapist at some point - just one that doesn't know me so well it's more like gossip than therapy. I can't do it til I have health insurance anyway.

My downstairs neighbors were away for the holiday weekend and their 18-year-old son had the place to himself til today.  He had people over til 5am each night.  (And yes I was a bitch and ran the vacuum at 7am Sunday)  I still haven't gone out the back because they were on the stairs Thursday night. I unlocked the deadbolt  and heard them running down the stairs and "sssshhhh!!!"  I was unable to do anything for nearly an hour and was lucky to get one trip in.  This set the tone for the holiday weekend though.  I HATE anxiety to my core. There is nothing more FUCKING annoying than being afraid of nothing or at the very least nothing relevant.

So: 
Thursday:  One trip, two bags
Friday:  One trip, three bags
Saturday:  One trip, one bag, one wooded cd rack
Sunday:  One trip, two bags
Monday: One trip. two bags (should be doing a second trip as I speak but wind gusts are 45mph and caused a door to slam - I also thought my neighbor jumped out of bed to chase me but this was most likely a window rattling).

I have to call back the two cleaning services this morning.  The second one called me and left two more messages.  Either he really cares or a hoarding job is such a huge profit margin he's seeing dollar signs.  I need to stop thinking that way but I wonder what mark-up I'd put on a job like this...I'm going to stop now because i don't want to give myself another anxiety attack. Tuck pointing work will be on the building front today, though the wind might cause them to cancel. I can only hope nothing smells at my windows.  I shut the bathroom window so they couldn't look in and I'll have the blinds closed where I'm sitting but I really would rather not shut the windows, especially with all the cool air blowing in here. 

I wanted a semi-clean living room and hallway before I had anyone come in.  Not going to happen, though I think if I fill bags all day today, I can stage them in the kitchen on top of what is already there and vacuum and swiffer the exposed floor. I can do the same in the hallway.  I started this on Friday but had an allergic reaction to the amount of dust I disturbed.  If I plow through though, then I can use my night trips for bio-waste from the bathroom tonight (sorry - eew - I know) so that maybe the plumber won't be quite as humiliating. I won't go into detail but it's not as bad as it could be. There are two buckets and several boxes that will be bagged and sealed and with an empty dumpster they'll get covered quickly.  If I can flush the toilet before a plumber gets here it will be a victory (and a lower bill). 

I have made progress in the living room though.  Maybe I'll post another picture of it after today. I just can't wait to have enough space to set up the wii again.  I NEED the exercise.

Slow Progress....

Sunday - 1 trip, 2 bags
Monday - 1trip, 1 bag
Tuesday - 2 trips, 3 bags
Wednesday - 1 trip, 2 bags

2 emails sent to two cleaning specialists.  One replied within ten minutes, the other within 5 - 6 hours.  Naturally I did not answer the phone.  At least the weather cooled off.  I hate this.  

http://aluratek.com/libre-ebook-reader-pro-white

Perhaps the above is a solution to my book problem.

FEAR

I am so lucky to have parents willing to help me yet I have been struggling all afternoon trying to make myself make the phone calls I need to make today. I'm just sitting here crying. Annie Wilkes was home today presumably due to the ongoing tuck-pointing project that started today. Like she needs to supervise. All I can think of is her trying to look through my back door while people are removing all the trash. Or I imagine it costing $10,000 or that the services come to give estimates and refuse to take on the job because it is too big.   That last is ridiculous because any service with experience dealing with this will have seen worse.  I have such a headache from thinking about it. And then I will have to have the water shut off at least one day for plumbing repairs. I'm not even sure how to get that permission or where to turn it off.

Last night I only managed one trip downstairs and I chickened out of using the back door - my new back door. I opened it to pour some bleach  on the concrete slab to circumvent the smell of dried cat shit or bird shit or whatever that was that had been there for years.  Annie Wilkes had moved all her plants over close to my door to keep them away from the tuck-pointing dust (she can't just bring them inside?  They are huge and she even had one of them sitting on the steps, which is an obstruction) and I lost my nerve.  In addition, I'd already made so many trips up and down all those stairs my body wasn't going to let me and the dumpsters were so full nothing else was really going to fit.

Truthfully, I hadn't been in the kitchen for at least a year and it's worse than I had recalled. I'm betting there are thirty bags in that space.  It makes me want to see how many I can get downstairs tonight but I'm also betting they are heavy.  They are piled waist high in a space roughly 4 feet by 8 feet.  Back then I used to pile as much in a bag as I could instead of limiting the heavy stuff in smaller bags and using the big bags for light stuff only.   There are so many windows in the back courtyard and the steps in back are so narrow.  I have to do this though. I have to make a path.  (I have to clean before the cleaning people can come)  I have to bring my cat to my mother's guest room because of this. I don't want her to get lost in the shuffle, plus I would die if she got scared and ran out the door. Also, if I can get rid of her box for awhile, that's one thing less to clean.  I don't know how long I can be without her though.  It breaks my heart.

Mom's Proud of Me?

I have no job and I fell behind in my condo assessments forcing the treasurer of the board to send the statement to my mother, also mentioning I had no screen on my back door (seriously - so what?).  My mother and her husband and I spent nearly six hours installing an aluminum screen door (hinges on the old wood door were painted over so many times it took an hour to get it off then the door they brought was two inched too wide and we had to take it down, return it and carry a second door up three stories on a 94 degree day).   Did I mention Annie Wilkes was trying to peek out her window half the time? Nosy bitch.

In the process of  arguing last night over why I didn't want them to come over (as they insisted) I told my mother about my problem. She'd already been looking into professional organizers for my brother (see earlier post) and has agreed (as I won't let her in here to help) to pay to fix this. I haven't got estimates yet but this isn't going to be cheap. But she's proud of me for telling her. I'm costing her potential thousands of dollars because I'm a pathetic fuck-up and she's proud of me?

So I have to do three trips tonight and I'm doing it down the back stairs. And tomorrow morning is trash pick up so tomorrow overnight I'm going to try to fill the middle dumpster.  Wrong of me I know, but what are they going to do - go through my garbage bags? If I can do that tomorrow night and Thursday night when there will be an empty dumpster perhaps I can save us a little money.  I dunno. I just dunno.

Hoarding on Oprah

http://www.oprah.com/showinfo/Inside-the-Lives-of-Hoarders-with-Peter-Walsh-Parts-1

I don't know if this is helpful or exploitative.  I can't imagine having a partner in this!  I guess everyone's situation is different.  It scares the shit out of me though that with a crew of 100 it took 8 weeks to clean this house. Granted, my apartment is less than half the size and I have far less to get rid of, but it's been 8 weeks with just me and there is very little difference.  I know with help I could knock it out in a week or less. And you know by now that I won't ask for help.  I really need to get out and walk or ride the bike during the day so the three flights of stairs don't fucking kill me every night.  I need to do the consistent three trips.  End of story.  And I need to stop talking about it and just fucking do it. I lost my job and spent nearly 4 months lying down.  I've officially never been so inactive as I am now and boy does it make the body weak.

First of all, I'm thinking this has been a problem for me for six years but it was brewing many many years longer. I never wanted to borrow, I wanted my own and I think that came from my father leaving and taking all the money.  All my clothes were handed down.  All my books were handed down (which I appreciated much more than wearing 70's clothes in the mid 80's).  My father used to buy me all the records I wanted for my birthday and Christmas but even though I wanted cassettes, he bought lp's so I couldn't take them home with me. Toys couldn't be brought home. Growing up, most kids had more stuff than I did.  I also was treated by both parents as a possession.  I wasn't allowed out a lot and lost a lot of friends that way.  My mother was simply overprotective to the point it stunted my survival skills (and she won't apologize for it either) and my father felt his "visitation" (and he got a lot more than most fathers, the abusive fuck) should not be infringed upon by my desire to have a social life. I disowned him when I was 18 and dropped his name by 22.  At 20 I got my first credit card.  I maxed it within months and my mother bailed me out. It took me a year to screw up again. Book clubs, cd clubs, vhs clubs...no one could see what I bought when I got it by mail, right?  And no one else owned them and I could take them and loan them wherever I want.

I do have a vision though, like they talk about.   I see an airy room that I love to be in.  I see open windows. I see myself enjoying myself here and making it a home.