New insight this morning.

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I woke up this morning early, feeling eager. I thought about the house and some things I can do. I suddenly realized that I absolutely hate this house. It has been neglected for 40+ years and has so many problems. It is so cluttered that I can't clean, and getting rid of things is like declaring war. I understand why I hate this house. It is like a dreary, worn dungeon that creates nothing but stress. It is left in the will to me, but I've decided I don't want it. My mother has been holding it over my head, telling me I need to fix this and that on it. This is not a little thing. It is a daily stress she adds by coming up with some problem for me to fix. I have gotten where I shut down anytime she mentions the house, but I didn't understand why until this morning. I hate this house, and I can't wait to get out of it and leave it to the bulldozers.


Jessie you might remind your mother that when/if she needs professional nursing care the house will have to be sold to pay for it so you won't get it anyway. In that light, formulate a plan for yourself for the future.
When I cared for my dad I hated the house too. I took absolutely no interest in it. It wasn't a house my parents had for decades, I rented it when I knew my dad needed to live with me. Everyone else loved it but I hated it. I hated what it represented, I hated that I lived in a house that I had to rent to accommodate my dad instead of getting a little house of my own that I could take pride in and love. I only rented it because the master bathroom (a teeny tiny room) had a walk-in shower (my dad couldn't step over a tub). I gave up the master bedroom to my dad so he could have his own bathroom and my room was the size of a big walk-in closet. My decorating taste runs to the feminine. Cottage, shabby chic, so when we moved in with my dad I had to butch up the décor and I hated it. It wasn't my taste or my style at all. Everything was just wrong with the house. One day I threw a hairbrush and it sailed across the living room and hit the wall with a satisfying WHACK! Then I had a house with a hole in it which made me hate it more.

Once my dad went into the NH and I had to move I found an apartment (they call it a 'condo' because it has a vaulted ceiling) and I love it. It's almost the same size as that hovel in which I used to live but it's MINE. MY taste. MY décor. MY space. And so much less expensive since we moved farther out of the county.

I know exactly how you feel, Jessie. I was so ambivalent to the house I shared with my dad. It didn't feel like "home". It was a pit-stop. When I moved I never looked back.
Good insight, Jessie. Maybe it will also help you make decisions about what is worth improvement for resale value and what you can ignore.
bravo!! see if you can make a little money on some of it if possible.
when my mom passes, I am calling in some antique appraisers and I'm gonna cash it all out. where I go from there, not a clue. but it will be cleaned out. it is nice stuff but does not mean a thing to me.
Not thinking about money at all. Just have visions of bulldozers in my head. :)
My heart goes out to those of you caring for your loved ones in environments not your own. The first several months of caring for Coy at home as I took up throw rugs, put away "dangerous" things, had grab bars installed, put some furniture in storage to make wider passageways, I remember thinking resentfully, "In order to keep Coy out of a nursing home I'm winding up living in one myself!" Of course it was not at all that dramatic and it was all part of the early anger at the disease and I did get past it.

But I do understand that your personal space, your tastes, your comfort items, can be a casualty of caregiving. I really feel for those of you who are no longer in "your" homes at all.
Jessie, we got a 10 cu.yd. dumpster, huge, filled it today and we are only half done with mom's house. They will tip it and bring it back so we can do more next weekend. I think this stuff is growing when we are not looking.
I know what you mean. My parents got two Hoverounds -- one scooter and one power chair. They never used them. They are sitting there dead. Batteries for both would cost about $500, which would be a silly expenditure, since no one uses them. I tried to give them away while one was still running, but there were protests. Now they are little albatrosses.
my mother made legal provisions for me to occupy her house for as long as i lived. the house reminds me of a fanatical and sometimes violent childhood at the hand of my dad. within 24 hours of moms death i grabbed my pc, clothes, stone ashtray, motorcycles and masonry equiptment and i went home. mom knew my shack was beautiful i dont know why shed think i wanted to live in her modular. it wouldnt have been fair to my triclops sisters to take the home and the small inheritance both. parents made me executor 30 years ago because i was equitable and fair. cant turn into a selfish pig at this point.
get out of that house jesse. buy something small and effecient to heat and cool , and incidently, " yours " ..
captain, I know just how you felt. I can't wait til the day.

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