My mother, almost 98, died last summer, and I've been coordinating the sale of the house, the disposal of her personal property, etc. This is a roomy old house with several outbuildings, occupied by the family since the 1920s --- full of trash and even treasures. The house has been sold; we close in two weeks. We had the estate sale last weekend and the estate sales agent did a wonderful job. They sold practically everything that was worth selling, and oversaw the donation of the rest to a tax deductible charity. (If anyone wants to ask about working with an estate sales company, I'll be happy to share my experience.)
But there was so much here, the accumulation of so many people, so many years, that there was a lot of stuff that wasn't even put out for sale --- most of it for the dumpster --- jammed up under the eaves, into storage sheds, into the rafters of the garage. So ... it's two weeks since the sale, and I'm still here, sleeping on an unsold couch, making do in the kitchen with one saucepan, one plate, one cup, one glass... trying to dispose of the remains of the estate. I'm managing pretty well, but I lost it today. A couple of good ol' boys are out here hauling the junk out of the attic to the dumpster and at some point the penny dropped and they realized that I was still living here. They were so shocked, so concerned about me! So anxious to assure me that they would work just as hard and fast as they could so that I could get out of here....well, I laughed and thanked them, and then I went and hid in the bathroom (one towel, one washcloth, etc.) and cried and cried.