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Hi Mica, I would suggest that you buy him as a gift , a big tub of Ceravee cream, which is a thick, luxurious cream, good for all skin types, which would help him to not have such DRY SKIN from his Psoriasis, and then the majority of dry skin would wash off in the shower. I would come at your friend from a helpful and concerned approach. Plus, 300 square feet of floor space doesn't really require that much vaccum time, maybe a couple of minutes a day, and he would be appreciated in your concern and acceptance of his condition, which is often embarrassing for people to talk about, especially men! He might be surprised how nice his skin feels and responds, if he takes proper care of it. Surely he will understand that this is unpleasant for you! Hope this helps!
Oh Mica that is hard. you are dealing with two sensitive issues, being grateful for someones help when you needed it and an issue of someone personal hygiene. Never a fun one to deal with. I would try as gently as possible to let the helper know you have noticed the skin condition and ask if there is anything they think wold help. Let them know you are grateful for their help and would like to assist them with something they might be having trouble with.
Ideal.
Reality: I am a coward and would not say anything for like ever, become angry and resentful and hurt and just wish and pray the person would grab a clue or move out...
I do not envy you the situation. Do what you can to look after yourself. Jen
Yesterday I was at my local COSTCO buying a large bag of Purina dog chow for my loyal pet, Jake, the Wonder Dog and was in the check-out line when a woman behind me asked if I had a dog.
What did she think I had an elephant? So because I'm retired and have little to do, on impulse I told her that no, I didn't have a dog, I was starting the Purina Diet again. I added that I probably shouldn't, because I ended up in the hospital last time, but that I'd lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms.
I told her that it was essentially a Perfect Diet and that the way that it works is, to load your pants pockets with Purina Nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete so it works well and I was going to try it again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in line was now enthralled with my story.)
Horrified, she asked if I ended up in intensive care, because the dog food poisoned me. I told her no, I stepped off a curb to sniff a poodle's ass and a car hit me.
I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack he was Laughing so hard.
Costco won't let me shop there anymore. Better watch what you ask retired people. They have all the time in the World to think of crazy things to say.
Thank you guys, and ((Hugs)) all around... Yes, I am a coward who wishes for her life on her own back after fighting for it after leaving an abusive relationship. The one time I mentioned this to him the pained hurt look that came upon him was too much for me. Sorry, trying to keep this on topic about being grossed out- he is a person who sees a dr and then doesnt do what he is supposed to= like his diabetes is not controlled either. I have purchased many things and provided medications for him. Yes, I am like Jen's reality person :-/ I clean and then an hour later everything is covered with skin again and here you cannot help but see it, so I get angry inside. I am trying to look after myself in trying to get out of apt. to walk and socialize, but that doesnt help with the gross factor- or the fact that I have no alone time to pray or meditate, since there is no bedroom.
Gah mica, you are living the nightmare. I KNOW this one from absolute personal experience, my posts on Grossed are littered with my grousing, praying and begging that all this crap would just get over with would fill, well, a short and smarmy booklet on how not to do elder care. But I am a coward and I rarely think to just get up and do something about a situation. I understand my tactics or lack there of frustrate people, but really, who can know another's life. A lot of things in life seem easy to fix when you look at them from the outside. Listen to your self, you know your needs your limits your boundaries, what you an and cannot do, what you are capable of and what you can live with. It is a hard way to live and to many it sounds pathetic, but if everyone was a Type A sort of person, I mean, the world is full of people who simply can not get up and go and just "get over it". You have to live your life as best as you can and not beat yourself up for wanting something else and not quite being able to make it happen. Granted no one else will and those serendipitous lucky moments are usually stuff of Hollywood, but Just keep a little tiny grain of hope for yourself that things can get better, can change, you can and do have something to look forward to in life, even if it seems like you don't and you really can't see it. I am not a nice person, I am a professional grouse who literally prays a family member would die (94) so my mom and I can be free and have a life. I have been praying for this for ten plus years. Some would say that is giving up, no giving up is me committing suicide. Whining and grousing is me venting and doing what 90 percent of the planets doing at any one time...Wishing things could be...better... If wishes were horses...Yes, quite. And still... You are in the tunnel Mica. There is only standing still and moving forward, and life goes on regardless. Know you are not alone. The fact you are here proves it. You can escape. It may not be tomorrow or next month but eventually.
By definition a tunnel has two ends or it wouldn't be a tunnel, therefore it has a beginning and an end. In metaphor a tunnel in life doesn't usually have markers and is almost always pitch dark. When you are deep inside it, there is no way of knowing how far you are from the beginning or how close you are to the end. Believe the light is up ahead, this is no fallacy. It Is Up Ahead...Jen
One Sunday, in counting the money in the weekly offering, the pastor of the Granville Presbyterian church found a pink envelope containing $1,000. It happened again the next week. The following Sunday, he watched as the offering was collected and saw a little old lady put the distinctive pink envelope in the plate. This went on for weeks until the pastor, overcome by curiosity, approached her. "Ma'am, I couldn't help but notice that you put $1,000 a week in the collection plate," he stated.
"Why yes," she replied, "every week my son sends me money, and I give some of it to the church."
The pastor replied, "That's wonderful, how much does he send you?"
The old lady said, "$10,000 a week."
The pastor was amazed. "Your son is very successful; What does he do for a living?"
"He is a veterinarian," she answered.
"That is an honorable profession," the pastor said. "Where does he practice?"
The old lady said proudly, "In Nevada. He has two cat houses in Las Vegas and one in Reno."
Oh, that's sooo bad Cuz, but very funny. My youngest sister's SIL, the one that killed her mother by neglect, killed herself. Not sure if it was accidental or on purpose. She was drunk, and walked out on the interstate, into traffic. I feel worse for the driver of the car that hit her.
Meanwhile Sorry to hear about the loss. You have to wonder what really goes through a person's mind when they do something like that. It is kind of scary. I wish though I had someone who would send me that kind of money every week. Just think of how many caregivers on the thread I could help with the extra cash and also all of the fishing I could afford to do with the extra cash. I don't come close to makin that kind of money on social security ya think? Hugs your way. lovCuz
Oh Cuz.....geez... :))) So sorry about the tragedy. Alcoholism is just another disease and hard to watch or be around. I hope the mother didn't suffer too badly. My gosh, so many terrible things and diseases but I just have to hang on to the belief that there is a reason for them and that God is in charge. I don't understand it but I have to believe it or else there would be nothing to hang on to. Good luck and God Bless everyone.
My mother, age 90 with advanced Alzheimer's, came out of the room with all red teeth because she had used her lipstick as toothpaste and brushed her teeth with it.
Oh, and I nearly forgot this... after a week of not bathing, my daughter and I tried to give my mom a shower. When we pulled her pants down she was wearing my father's 'tighty whitey's' and..... they were on backwards! When we told her she said, "there's nothing wrong with this".
...Uber frustrating here. My mom just had to get off the phone with her sister becasue she is so upset she can't talk. Old shit for brains has been IN the nursing home for a year exactly now. And even though his day to day care needs are not ours to meet, nor the smells, he still stinks. He has started turning off the bed and chair monitor getting up and using the toilet even though he needs a Hoya lift to be shifted by aides now, he is refusing water because he won't drink it with Thick It in it, (thickening agent for swallowing difficulties). He came out of the bathroom on his own cover in yes, feces. They had to change him and wash the room down which he found a big pain in the ass. He argued with them about everything, was pissed they tried to tell him he needs to ring for help becasue it is a safety issue. (Where was the alarm in all this? do they know he turns it off, removes it?) Who knows. $12,000 a month can only get you so much. In my mom's case it does not get you, peace of mind, guarantees care and safety (what does), any chance of the removal of guilt for putting Daddy in the god damn nursing home in the first place, a good night sleep, removal of strain and blood pressure rising burdens). He is miserable, medicine and doctors prolong the misery, we can do nothing about it, he wouldn't, he actively refuses to do ANYTHING that would so much as make his useless moronic day to day life safer and less burdensome for himself and others and it makes my mom cry shut down and mad ALL THE TIME.
Here is the tip to a good life.
Live love laugh play work feel be hope give gain see do hear find make wonder...
AND DO NOT LIVE LONGER THAN YOUR LIFE!!!!!
Jen, so help me God if I had that toothbrush I shove it up his.........
Day 2 of Poo in box in dresser by her bed... How is she getting these boxes and why on earth is she poo'ing in them and hiding them???.. Gonna be another long day.
Only you can identify the boxes but why is she doing it who knows? Maybe she has had a few accidents and you were annoyed so she's hiding it. Like the cat who pees in the litter box but poops beside it. The box is cleaned twice a day, is huge and has no lid. When they moved house this behavior stopped.
Annoyed no,Confused yep! We beg her to call us if she needs help in the night as she is an extreme fall risk. The boxes nope no clue where she got them but I don't go thru every inch of her room, maybe I should. On a good day she can walk with her walker about 10 feet, most of the time she is wheelchair bound... But when she gets a hair.. usually in the middle of the night when everybody is asleep she becomes super grannie..Bed alarms don't work with her, she's spotted the baby monitor had to take that out. * Sigh Honestly seems like a new hoarding behavior, only reason I can think of her hiding it is that we do not let her dig in her butt. Dementia sure likes to play weird jokes on the caregivers.
I'd have turned off the bloody bed and chair monitors if I could reach them. They were part of the whole bed set up and turned on/off by a switch on the wall which naturally I could not reach. If the call buttons were answered faster there would be no need to set off the alarm but at least that get attention. Not that I would have got very far trying to escape because I was made to wear a yellow gown and a bright orange wrist band signifying "Fall risk" I can also attest to the fact that no water laced with thicket would pass my lips. The old guy might be demented and piece of you know what but i can see his point. Not about the face painting though. It is like being in prison. You have got that wrong saying do not live longer than your life it should be longer than your brain!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The doctor said, 'Joe, the good news is I can cure your headaches. The bad news is that it will require castration. 'You have a very rare condition, which causes your testicles to press on your spine and the pressure creates one hell of a headache. The only way to relieve the pressure is to remove the testicles.' Joe was shocked and depressed. He wondered if he had anything to live for. He had no choice but to go under the knife. When he left the hospital, he was without a headache for the first time in 20 years, but he felt like he was missing an important part of himself. As he walked down the street, he realized that he felt like a different person. He could make a new beginning and live a new life. He saw a men's clothing store and thought, 'That's what I need. A new suit.' He entered the shop and told the salesman, 'I'd like a new suit.' The elderly tailor eye d him briefly and said, 'Let's see, Size 44 long.' Joe laughed, 'That's right, how did you know?' 'Been in the business 60 years!' the tailor said. Joe tried on the suit it fit perfectly. As Joe admired himself in the mirror, the salesman asked, 'How about a new shirt?' Joe thought for a moment and then said, 'Sure.' The salesman eyed Joe and said, 'Let's see, 34 sleeves and 16-1/2 neck.' Joe was surprised, 'That's right, how did you know?' 'Been in the business 60 years.' Joe tried on the shirt and it fit perfectly. Joe walked comfortably around the shop and the salesman asked, 'How about some new underwear?' Joe thought for a moment and said, 'Sure.' The salesman said, 'Let's see, Size 36.' Joe laughed, 'Ah ha! I got you! I've worn a size 34 since I was 18 years old.' The salesman shook his head, 'You can't wear a size 34. A size 34 would press your testicles up against the base of your spine and give you one hell of a headache.'
Poop in a box, hmn sounds like a good item for the holidays...
Some of the hording with elders will be generational. Depression Generation: Save it up, wear it out, use it up...is modern day take the napkins off the table and pile them up in your wheel chair, don't discard a tissue till it is saturated or actually green, dry toilet paper is clean toilet paper, any item of clothing not actually making crackling noises when put on is clean.
Jen - yes generational. I cleaned out my parent's home of 53 years. It took 2 and a half 28ft box trucks to cart away all the stuff! That would be a lot of poop, I must admit. My mother saved everything -every free address label that came in the door, drawers of them. Every pine cone and bow from a Christmas wreath after it died. My father collected (or hoarded) canceled stamps. 110 boxes of them. They tipped over during the move. What a mess. But not poop in a box. Bags, my mother also hoarded bags of bags. When they moved to a place close to me, it started all over again. Definitely think it is a symptom of being a child from the depression. Now in a NH, she has a little bag on the front of her walker. She can't shove enough stuff in there! I have found a dinner knife, bags of artificial sweetener, loose chocolates, a cookie, and a mountain of Kleenex used and unused. oh well, life's simple pleasures I guess!
My parents were "savers" too - not quite hoaders, because they never really had enough stuff to hoard - but savers, oh yes.
Dad kept every single shred of paper from *everything*, but all neatly organized. All the bills for every month of every year are all clipped together in order by month, with the canceled check or carbon copy of the check attached to each bill, and then the entire year's bills are bundled together in a gallon size ziploc bag and labeled. I inherited over 20 of those bags of paper when I moved in. Expando files full of bills from years before that - about 10 of those. Boxes of paystubs dating back to the 60's - every single paystub he received from his 30+ years in a factory. (Those were actually kind of interesting to look at. He never made more than $8.50 per hour in his entire lifetime and managed to raise a family on that through the 60s and 70s. No wonder we struggled to make it.) I've already burned up one cheap shredder trying to eliminate this stuff - and I'll be shredding til doomsday.
Dad also kept every single bottle, plastic food container and reusable bag - he washed out plastic ziploc bags to re-use them - he even fashioned a wooden drying rack for them! Prescription bottles had the labels removed and were used to hold small screws, tacks or other small items.
When I moved in, I started cleaning things out, because Dad wasn't there to say no, and Mom wanted the stuff gone. I threw out bags and bags of plastic food containers that were so old that they'd become brittle (and thus, unusable!), bags of clothes and shoes from the 1970s that were put in the basement (where they mildewed and smelled horrible, not salvagable), books from the basement as well - same deal - covered in mildew. Paper grocery bags filled with - guess what - more paper grocery bags, folded and packed into the other bags.
The plastic grocery bags filled with other plastic grocery bags? That's me. I save them all because I'm always re-using them for something - cat litter disposal, bathroom trash can liner, etc. But I use them - they don't just accumulate. If I find I have too many, I take them back to the store and recycle them.
I'm still going through things, nearly 3 years later, and slowly getting it all cleaned out or organized so my siblings can take what they want when Mom passes - at least it will be organized and ready at that point.
Oh, and I'm still receiving the free address labels with my parents' names on them, even though Dad has been gone over 3 years and Mom is now in a nursing home - I've contacted the company multiple times to stop them, and they assure me they'll stop - but still, they show up at least once a month in the mail. Into the trash they go. Dad had stacks and stacks of them. No one has that much mail that they can ever use all of them!
Susan, your dad was a remarkable man. I would have probably liked him. I wouldn't have wanted to live in that house, though. It would have driven me batty. My mother saved, too. She worked in daycare after the kids got older, so she would save egg cartons, chicken pot pie bowls, bottles, everything! We had that stuff all over the kitchen. I think that job and her dread of housework is what started her hoarding.
Thanks Jessie. He *was* a remarkable man in many ways - and a horrible one in others, but that's neither here nor there now that he's gone.
Hoarding is a terrible disorder - and that's exactly what it is - a disorder. I look at my house right now and think, "Hoarder!!" - but it's not actually hoarding - it's trying to sort things out to sell and give away, working 60+ hours per week and not having time to get to it! I can't wait until I get it all done.
CUZ!!!!........WHERE DO YOU GET THESE???!!! :)))) Can't wait to share with the other half. He'll love it.....
What is with all of the ADDRESS LABELS?? My dad (93) has, well, too many. He has 3 things to mail every month. He will never use them! My FIL did the same thing. Just generational I guess. My son will probably shake his head at half the things I will do. Heck, he already does. Can't imagine how many more things I will do to make him roll his eyes. He loves me with all his heart (almost 40 as I do my dad) but it's hard at times to put yourself in your parent's shoes. You have to step back and take a breath instead of making a snap decision instead of rolling your eyes or snapping at them. Good Luck to all of us.....
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Ideal.
Reality: I am a coward and would not say anything for like ever, become angry and resentful and hurt and just wish and pray the person would grab a clue or move out...
I do not envy you the situation. Do what you can to look after yourself. Jen
Yesterday I was at my local COSTCO buying a large bag of Purina dog chow for my loyal pet, Jake, the Wonder Dog and was in the check-out line when a woman behind me asked if I had a dog.
What did she think I had an elephant? So because I'm retired and have little to do, on impulse I told her that no, I didn't have a dog, I was starting the Purina Diet again. I added that I probably shouldn't, because I ended up in the hospital last time, but that I'd lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms.
I told her that it was essentially a Perfect Diet and that the way that it works is, to load your pants pockets with Purina Nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete so it works well and I was going to try it again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in line was now enthralled with my story.)
Horrified, she asked if I ended up in intensive care, because the dog food poisoned me. I told her no, I stepped off a curb to sniff a poodle's ass and a car hit me.
I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack he was Laughing so hard.
Costco won't let me shop there anymore.
Better watch what you ask retired people. They have all the time in the World to think of crazy things to say.
The one time I mentioned this to him the pained hurt look that came upon him was too much for me. Sorry, trying to keep this on topic about being grossed out- he is a person who sees a dr and then doesnt do what he is supposed to= like his diabetes is not controlled either. I have purchased many things and provided medications for him.
Yes, I am like Jen's reality person :-/
I clean and then an hour later everything is covered with skin again and here you cannot help but see it, so I get angry inside.
I am trying to look after myself in trying to get out of apt. to walk and socialize, but that doesnt help with the gross factor- or the fact that I have no alone time to pray or meditate, since there is no bedroom.
Listen to your self, you know your needs your limits your boundaries, what you an and cannot do, what you are capable of and what you can live with.
It is a hard way to live and to many it sounds pathetic, but if everyone was a Type A sort of person, I mean, the world is full of people who simply can not get up and go and just "get over it".
You have to live your life as best as you can and not beat yourself up for wanting something else and not quite being able to make it happen. Granted no one else will and those serendipitous lucky moments are usually stuff of Hollywood, but Just keep a little tiny grain of hope for yourself that things can get better, can change, you can and do have something to look forward to in life, even if it seems like you don't and you really can't see it.
I am not a nice person, I am a professional grouse who literally prays a family member would die (94) so my mom and I can be free and have a life. I have been praying for this for ten plus years. Some would say that is giving up, no giving up is me committing suicide. Whining and grousing is me venting and doing what 90 percent of the planets doing at any one time...Wishing things could be...better...
If wishes were horses...Yes, quite. And still...
You are in the tunnel Mica. There is only standing still and moving forward, and life goes on regardless. Know you are not alone. The fact you are here proves it. You can escape. It may not be tomorrow or next month but eventually.
By definition a tunnel has two ends or it wouldn't be a tunnel, therefore it has a beginning and an end. In metaphor a tunnel in life doesn't usually have markers and is almost always pitch dark. When you are deep inside it, there is no way of knowing how far you are from the beginning or how close you are to the end. Believe the light is up ahead, this is no fallacy. It Is Up Ahead...Jen
I have been consumed with happenings here at the marina and haven't checked in.
Your post is balls on right and as usual, written so well.
Thank you for your voice of reason and empathy, humor and insight.
It Is Up Ahead.
Brilliant.
love ya Jen,
Bobbie
You know you got balls…...
containing $1,000. It happened again the next week. The following Sunday, he watched as the offering was collected and saw a little
old lady put the distinctive pink envelope in the plate. This went on for weeks until the pastor, overcome by curiosity, approached her.
"Ma'am, I couldn't help but notice that you put $1,000 a week in the collection plate," he stated.
"Why yes," she replied, "every week my son sends me money, and I give some of it to the church."
The pastor replied, "That's wonderful, how much does he send you?"
The old lady said, "$10,000 a week."
The pastor was amazed. "Your son is very successful; What does he do for a living?"
"He is a veterinarian," she answered.
"That is an honorable profession," the pastor said. "Where does he practice?"
The old lady said proudly, "In Nevada. He has two cat houses in Las Vegas and one in Reno."
My youngest sister's SIL, the one that killed her mother by neglect, killed herself. Not sure if it was accidental or on purpose. She was drunk, and walked out on the interstate, into traffic. I feel worse for the driver of the car that hit her.
I am so sorry to hear about your sister's SIL. Awful.
Agreed about the driver that hit her.
Loved that joke Cuz.
Jen! What's the news? Is he still going going going?
Selfish Sib! Everybody!
lovbob
I wish though I had someone who would send me that kind of money every week. Just think of how many caregivers on the thread I could help with the extra cash and also all of the fishing I could afford to do with the extra cash. I don't come close to makin that kind of money on social security ya think? Hugs your way.
lovCuz
He is miserable, medicine and doctors prolong the misery, we can do nothing about it, he wouldn't, he actively refuses to do ANYTHING that would so much as make his useless moronic day to day life safer and less burdensome for himself and others and it makes my mom cry shut down and mad ALL THE TIME.
Here is the tip to a good life.
Live love laugh play work feel be hope give gain see do hear find make wonder...
AND DO NOT LIVE LONGER THAN YOUR LIFE!!!!!
Jen, so help me God if I had that toothbrush I shove it up his.........
Maybe she has had a few accidents and you were annoyed so she's hiding it.
Like the cat who pees in the litter box but poops beside it. The box is cleaned twice a day, is huge and has no lid. When they moved house this behavior stopped.
If the call buttons were answered faster there would be no need to set off the alarm but at least that get attention.
Not that I would have got very far trying to escape because I was made to wear a yellow gown and a bright orange wrist band signifying "Fall risk"
I can also attest to the fact that no water laced with thicket would pass my lips.
The old guy might be demented and piece of you know what but i can see his point. Not about the face painting though. It is like being in prison.
You have got that wrong saying do not live longer than your life it should be longer than your brain!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The doctor said, 'Joe, the good news is I can cure your headaches. The bad news is that it will require castration.
'You have a very rare condition, which causes your testicles to press on your spine and the pressure creates one hell of a headache. The only way to relieve the pressure is to remove the testicles.'
Joe was shocked and depressed. He wondered if he had anything to live for. He had no choice but to go under the knife. When he left the hospital, he was without a headache for the first time in 20 years, but he felt like he was missing an important part of himself.
As he walked down the street, he realized that he felt like a different person. He could make a new beginning and live a new life.
He saw a men's clothing store and thought, 'That's what I need. A new suit.'
He entered the shop and told the salesman, 'I'd like a new suit.'
The elderly tailor eye d him briefly and said, 'Let's see, Size 44 long.'
Joe laughed, 'That's right, how did you know?'
'Been in the business 60 years!' the tailor said.
Joe tried on the suit it fit perfectly.
As Joe admired himself in the mirror, the salesman asked, 'How about a new shirt?'
Joe thought for a moment and then said, 'Sure.'
The salesman eyed Joe and said, 'Let's see, 34 sleeves and 16-1/2 neck.'
Joe was surprised, 'That's right, how did you know?'
'Been in the business 60 years.'
Joe tried on the shirt and it fit perfectly.
Joe walked comfortably around the shop and the salesman asked, 'How about some new underwear?'
Joe thought for a moment and said, 'Sure.'
The salesman said, 'Let's see, Size 36.'
Joe laughed, 'Ah ha! I got you! I've worn a size 34 since I was 18 years old.'
The salesman shook his head, 'You can't wear a size 34. A size 34 would press your testicles up against the base of your spine and give you one hell of a headache.'
Some of the hording with elders will be generational. Depression Generation: Save it up, wear it out, use it up...is modern day take the napkins off the table and pile them up in your wheel chair, don't discard a tissue till it is saturated or actually green, dry toilet paper is clean toilet paper, any item of clothing not actually making crackling noises when put on is clean.
Oh lets just not go there...Jen
Dad kept every single shred of paper from *everything*, but all neatly organized. All the bills for every month of every year are all clipped together in order by month, with the canceled check or carbon copy of the check attached to each bill, and then the entire year's bills are bundled together in a gallon size ziploc bag and labeled. I inherited over 20 of those bags of paper when I moved in. Expando files full of bills from years before that - about 10 of those. Boxes of paystubs dating back to the 60's - every single paystub he received from his 30+ years in a factory. (Those were actually kind of interesting to look at. He never made more than $8.50 per hour in his entire lifetime and managed to raise a family on that through the 60s and 70s. No wonder we struggled to make it.) I've already burned up one cheap shredder trying to eliminate this stuff - and I'll be shredding til doomsday.
Dad also kept every single bottle, plastic food container and reusable bag - he washed out plastic ziploc bags to re-use them - he even fashioned a wooden drying rack for them! Prescription bottles had the labels removed and were used to hold small screws, tacks or other small items.
When I moved in, I started cleaning things out, because Dad wasn't there to say no, and Mom wanted the stuff gone. I threw out bags and bags of plastic food containers that were so old that they'd become brittle (and thus, unusable!), bags of clothes and shoes from the 1970s that were put in the basement (where they mildewed and smelled horrible, not salvagable), books from the basement as well - same deal - covered in mildew. Paper grocery bags filled with - guess what - more paper grocery bags, folded and packed into the other bags.
The plastic grocery bags filled with other plastic grocery bags? That's me. I save them all because I'm always re-using them for something - cat litter disposal, bathroom trash can liner, etc. But I use them - they don't just accumulate. If I find I have too many, I take them back to the store and recycle them.
I'm still going through things, nearly 3 years later, and slowly getting it all cleaned out or organized so my siblings can take what they want when Mom passes - at least it will be organized and ready at that point.
Hoarding is a terrible disorder - and that's exactly what it is - a disorder. I look at my house right now and think, "Hoarder!!" - but it's not actually hoarding - it's trying to sort things out to sell and give away, working 60+ hours per week and not having time to get to it! I can't wait until I get it all done.
What is with all of the ADDRESS LABELS?? My dad (93) has, well, too many. He has 3 things to mail every month. He will never use them! My FIL did the same thing. Just generational I guess. My son will probably shake his head at half the things I will do. Heck, he already does. Can't imagine how many more things I will do to make him roll his eyes. He loves me with all his heart (almost 40 as I do my dad) but it's hard at times to put yourself in your parent's shoes. You have to step back and take a breath instead of making a snap decision instead of rolling your eyes or snapping at them. Good Luck to all of us.....