Hoarding Woes: ‘Oh For Crying Out Loud! What Were You Thinking?’

Yesterday, we had hoped for a big push to finish the second half of the garage and the back shop area. Instead we had a, for us, unexplainable surprise….no surprise is too kind. The garage had some stuff jammed into some upper side areas, but I never really looked up. It was dark plywood up there and it seemed to be the upper reaches of the garage.

But, a gap was noted and a light shined upward into the gap. The area above the ply wood was equal to the size of the garage below and jammed from plywood flooring to the very roof beams with tonnage of scrap metal: interconnected, jumbled wrought iron, 1/2″ to 3/4″ plumbing pipe and assorted this and that. Even in there prime, my Auntie and her co-conspirator, my mom could not have managed to lift all that metal up the extension ladder into the dark recesses of that vaulted area. After awhile, the ‘who, what, when, why and how’ of crime reporting did not matter.

It just frankly pissed me off that someone was that damn dumb to have put that stuff up there…true tonnage of dangerous weight that had to be brought down piece by heavy piece through a narrow opening and handed off. This took the better part of the day and consequently, although we filled another drop box with normal junk and debris, we did not really clean up that garage and back area as well as we had hoped. 

Another drop box has just been delivered. Daylight Saving Time took effect over night and there is a foggy mental aftermath to yesterday’s frustrations and ‘what the hell’ was somebody thinking to do this. That coupled with disgusting animal nests and feces and suffocating dust made for a slower and more agitated response. All were in agreement, it was a less than satisfying day despite the loaded drop box.

The morning started with ten tires (some with wheels) deposited into the drop box (by ???). Each tire is charged at a rate of $10. each. So, that was a nice start to the morning. We negotiated with the drop box company to take them off our hands given how many drop boxes we have now purchased from them: #35 x $300 = $10,500 for hoarding crap hauled away from my mom's and aunt's hoarding homes.
The ladder going up into the jumbled, jangled mess. It all came down through that one opening. The flooring was an unsecured (not nailed to the rafters) hodge podge of plywood pieces and assorted boards. Dangerous to walk upon lest you tumble down through the flooring.
That's not to say we didn't have some humor in us early on. A Team Member took a festive turn shoving plastic plants into the just starting scrap metal pile. Eventually, the pile reached farther down toward the drop box and up to toward the top of the fence.
Some Shovels
More Shovels! Now in gardening, as you know, there are many kinds of gardening shovels. The most utilitarian usually has a rounded point to it for digging. But, my Auntie appears to have a penchant for straight bladed shovels for scooping. Perhaps, given the numbers of them, she anticipated the vast amount of crap to be scooped up. Ok, perhaps that is a touch agitated. So what about something lighter.........
How about this little gem of a collection of very old cords for electrical appliances that are apparently somewhere else. Certainly not near these old cords. You never know someone might attend a sale with their electric fry pan to see if you can match it with a cord.
Working my way into my uncle's shop. In the upper left you may glimpse a bit of a door frame. The area was a jumbled mess. Several large nests were created with shredded plastic bags, leaves, twigs and shredded cloth. I patiently worked toward clearing this area first.
Here, I made enough room to get to the closed closet and glimpsed his style. It was as I remembered him and would want to have believed my auntie once lived.
Tidy, organized. The rifles and shot guns long sold off by my Aunt. But that one little space has been the only space save some Elk & Deer racks on a paneled wall that reflected my uncle's style and attention to detail.
Time, history, buried in a back room. Aside from an organized, almost empty closet, this calendar resonated. His love for fly fishing and his pushing me in that direction while I stood in this very room 50+ years ago was a special moment for me.

Ok, time to head out into the pouring rain and fill another box. I went with smaller box for today. The conditions are miserable and we may just sort out more of what we have saved for resale.

A very small portion of boxed up stuff deemed worthy of resale or donation.
My mom's writing and humor. Funny if it weren't so punishing wading through all the stuff. My mom did the signage for their sales in the old days so it is nostalgic to come across her writing amidst the stored stuff.

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