So I’m sitting here, putting off my trip north to Kenosha to see my parents.
This is oh-so-typical.
It’s not that I don’t get along with them– I do. It’s just that I loathe sacrificing my weekend for a weekend of parental bliss. Is that selfish?
Again, please, don’t get me wrong, I LOVE my mom and dad. I really do. But sometimes, a little dose is just enough.
This weekend is looking to be a big dose. I’m going up tonight because tomorrow morning we get to do chores all day. That’s me, my sister and her husband.
The chores are being planned because we are getting ready to move Mom and Dad out of their house. It’s a monumental task. There is nearly 40 years worth of shit in that house. The basement, for years, was a dumping ground. If a toaster broke, we bought a new one. But instead of throwing out the old one, it went in the basement.
“Someone might need to use it.”
HUH!? It’s BROKEN! THROW IT AWAY!
Nope. There it sat, along with three other toasters, 5 electric frying pans, countless broken pots and pans, a few blenders and even an ancient mixer that my grandma once used.
My parents are pack rats. And they are the worst kind of pack rats– major junk savers.
So this is round two of junk disposal. Round one was my sister and her husband spending a week in the basement, dumping crap. They filled up three huge dumpsters. THREE. And it’s still not done.
Of course, the fact that I wasn’t there to help was a major bone of contention. In fact, it caused my sister and I to have a HUGE fight, something we rarely ever do. But it was Pride week… and I told them I couldn’t do it that week, but that was the only week that worked for them. So they did it, and I wasn’t there.
This weekend we are hitting the garage, which is another post for when I get back. Imagine nearly 40 years of paints, chemicals, and fertilizers. Oh I bet you can. I can’t believe the damn thing never blew up.
I need to get going before it gets too late. Wish me luck.