Sunday, April 7, 2013

And we are at that point again.

My mothers apartment is at that point.


Where I won't go in voluntarily because of the smell.

She didn't move in that long ago.  I remember when she did I was conflicted and torn.  Between the promises that I'd go and clean house every few days or that I was gonna let her be.  Between keeping her hoarding practices to myself or to tell or warn  . . . I don't know . . . *somebody*.

I did go and empty her trash for a while.  Clean up a little.  She got a small Chihuahua.  I made sure his area was cleaned up for a while.

But I stopped by the time mom started duck-taping her fridge and freezer shut.  She absolutely refused me to clean out her fridge.

Per norm.

She hoards food among other things - and this small and wonderful town obliges her inclinations with free food distributions up to 7 times a month.  And at one particular place they get all the flowers from a certain store that are considered "old" - and so my mothers home is full of rotting food, bread, and dead and dying bouquets of flowers still wrapped in their cellophane.  Oh the irony.

There have been a couple of times she has gone out of town.  My friends and hubby both encouraged me to go in and do a purge.  But I was very happy not to.

And you children of hoarders know why. Don't you?!

Because she would be spitting mad at me, it would be major work with major yuck, and then in no time flat she'd bring it right back to where it is now.  Pointless.

Rot  now or  Rot later, what does it matter?

Once, dropping off some blankets she had washed and left at our house I was walking out of her now 75% cluttered full apartment and was passing a full paper grocery bag full of near completely brown bananas.  I was mid reach to pick it up and take it out to the dump on my way out when I stopped myself.  She'd hate me.  Even if she let those bananas go liquid before doing anything with them.

She's getting older now and recently I called to tell her I'd pick her up.  I went over there and she didn't answer her door.  So - concerned - I went in.  Right outside the door I could smell food rot.  Moldy food.  Inside I was greeted with a tower of something and right in front was a bag that was topped with a loaf of bread 80% green and white with mold inside the bag.  Didn't look like it was ever opened.

I turned and left it.

Yay for me.

I guess.

But now that the rot and the smell are hitting the red zone - I'm feeling conflicted again.

It's not safe.  It's not healthy.  If she OWNED the home I'd let her rot her happy days away - but she is RENTING.  There are neighbors and owners to consider. Roaches and such . . .

Who do I talk to.  How?  Do I need to at all or just let nature take it's corse?

I don't know today.  I'd like to hear from other COH or professionals that have experience in this.