Okay, so I've been working (a little) to try to make some sense out of this mess that is my house. I've made (a little) progress. I've thrown away (a little) garbage, recycled (a LOT) of paper, and I have even decided to get rid of everything that doesn't fit the image I have in my head of what I want the house to look like. But I just got a terrible headache and it is because I went (a little) too gung ho on a recent project.
I started selling Avon in June. It's cool. Although, I think I've bought a lot more than I've sold. It's true. I am my own best customer. I don't even wear make up. But I have to try new things in order to be able to sell them. Anyway, I've done seven campaigns so far. And in typical hoarder fashion, I was stacking all of the boxes from my orders in a space in the sun room off of the living room. I looked at it one day last week and realized there was a better way to handle the mess. I went through everything, put all of the paperwork that I needed like invoices, training manuals, one of each of the old campaign catalogs for reference, stuff like that in one box. In another box, I put all of the extra products that I have to sell directly to clients. And in the last box, all of the current paperwork for the next two upcoming campaigns. Nice, right? Not so much today.
I went onto my website from a different computer which meant that I needed to put in my account number and password instead of just getting onto the site from my computer where it is automatically entered for me. I started looking around for the box that I have all of my original paperwork in so that I could get the number and HOLY SHIT!, it's not here anywhere! That's when the headache started. I had put everything back into two Avon boxes. I also put all of the aforementioned recyclable paper into two of the other empty Avon boxes. I was so excited to have Pete take the boxes out to the recycle bin that I inadvertently gave him the box with the stuff that I needed to save. It is a hoarders nightmare!
One of the fears that I have as a hoarder is that I am afraid that if I give up something willingly, somehow some day I am going to need it for something. Case in point, all of my damn paperwork! How am I going to go and sort through anything without fear of throwing the wrong thing away now? I am making myself sick over this stupid error. But am I supposed to just laugh it off and say, "OMG...hahaha...I'm such an idiot...hahaha!"? Shit! I NEED that stuff!
I wonder what my therapist will say. I'm sure she'll ask me what my anxiety level was on a scale of 1 to 10. (It's an 11, by the way.) I mean, this isn't just some broken toy or a ripped up book or a set of New Kids on the Block bed sheets (which are going in the yard sale...maybe). This is my work! Arrrggggg...I can't breathe! I am never going to throw anything away again!
Friday, August 20, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
March 21st, 2010...I graciously open my door and my home to a 2-man camera crew and a director who are here on behalf of Animal Planet. They will be here with us for the week, filming us at will and trying to get us to live as normally as possible. No, they aren't sleeping here and there are not cameras set up in every room of our tiny little house, but anywhere we go in our house, we carry microphones clipped to our shirts and the cameras follow us everywhere. I admit, I cleaned a little before they came here. I tried to clean off the dining room table enough so that we could maybe even eat in there instead of the TV trays we usually use in the living room. But getting around in here is still difficult at best. I had no idea how used to this they all were.
The first day of filming was easy. "Just go about your normal routine", is what we were all told. They filmed Pete getting up in the morning to go out to look for work. They filmed me still in the bed with seven cats and a chihuahua all cuddled up with me. They filmed my sleepy kids getting up late in the morning which is part of their daily routine (ah...the lives of an un-schooling family!). They just filmed and filmed and filmed!
I got up and did what I normally do which is take my dogs out before anyone has an accident. Louie, our beagle mix is screaming his high-pitched wail in his kennel as he waits for me to get downstairs. As I descend the stairs, the other dog that sleeps in a kennel, Jacy, starts pacing and pawing loudly to get out. It's a run to the back with four dogs right at my heels. I let them out into the concrete back yard that we use as a dog run. After I clean up the waste, I go back in for feeding time. Four dogs, four feeding areas in my teeny, tiny kitchen. I have an order in which I feed the dogs. It's the hierarchy of the pack in my home. First Spirit because he is the oldest and the slowest to eat. Then Jacy. He needs to know that he has a higher spot on the chain than the other two dogs. Then Louie and finally, my latest acquisition, Koda the chihuahua. The dogs are nervously pacing, waiting anxiously for their filled bowls to be placed on the floor. All the while, a cameraman is following me around filming. He's filming the poop out on the dog run, he's filming the food in the dog food bin, he's filming the clutter on the kitchen counters, he's filming the dogs eagerly wolfing down their food. No big deal. As long as he can stay out of my way, I'll give him what he wants on film.
Next come the cats. I have to block the stairway when I go upstairs because once I fill the cat food bowls, if a dog gets up there, it's gone. They also like to eat poop out of the litter boxes. The chihuahua slips upstairs before I can block it, but I think, "No big deal." I scoop out the three litter boxes that desperately need cleaning while seven cats surround my feet. They, too, are waiting for their food bowls to be filled. I go to clean out their water bowls and get them fresh water from the bathroom sink. The food bowls are lined up in the upstairs hallway. But as I come out of the bathroom, right in front of me at my girls' bedroom door, a new pile of poop. "Damn that little chihuahua", I think as I go to clean it. "Not on National TV!" But too late. The cameraman spies it first and he is getting a close-up...of the poop! I clean it up, muttering under my breath as I prepare to fill up the row of bowls with food. Seven happy cats, one pissed off pet owner and a quivering little chihuahua, all caught on tape.
And I still don't know what I'm in for here. I'm thinking that I handled that pretty well. My life with these animals is not so abnormal. I can handle it. I am NOT overwhelmed. Am I?
The first day of filming was easy. "Just go about your normal routine", is what we were all told. They filmed Pete getting up in the morning to go out to look for work. They filmed me still in the bed with seven cats and a chihuahua all cuddled up with me. They filmed my sleepy kids getting up late in the morning which is part of their daily routine (ah...the lives of an un-schooling family!). They just filmed and filmed and filmed!
I got up and did what I normally do which is take my dogs out before anyone has an accident. Louie, our beagle mix is screaming his high-pitched wail in his kennel as he waits for me to get downstairs. As I descend the stairs, the other dog that sleeps in a kennel, Jacy, starts pacing and pawing loudly to get out. It's a run to the back with four dogs right at my heels. I let them out into the concrete back yard that we use as a dog run. After I clean up the waste, I go back in for feeding time. Four dogs, four feeding areas in my teeny, tiny kitchen. I have an order in which I feed the dogs. It's the hierarchy of the pack in my home. First Spirit because he is the oldest and the slowest to eat. Then Jacy. He needs to know that he has a higher spot on the chain than the other two dogs. Then Louie and finally, my latest acquisition, Koda the chihuahua. The dogs are nervously pacing, waiting anxiously for their filled bowls to be placed on the floor. All the while, a cameraman is following me around filming. He's filming the poop out on the dog run, he's filming the food in the dog food bin, he's filming the clutter on the kitchen counters, he's filming the dogs eagerly wolfing down their food. No big deal. As long as he can stay out of my way, I'll give him what he wants on film.
Next come the cats. I have to block the stairway when I go upstairs because once I fill the cat food bowls, if a dog gets up there, it's gone. They also like to eat poop out of the litter boxes. The chihuahua slips upstairs before I can block it, but I think, "No big deal." I scoop out the three litter boxes that desperately need cleaning while seven cats surround my feet. They, too, are waiting for their food bowls to be filled. I go to clean out their water bowls and get them fresh water from the bathroom sink. The food bowls are lined up in the upstairs hallway. But as I come out of the bathroom, right in front of me at my girls' bedroom door, a new pile of poop. "Damn that little chihuahua", I think as I go to clean it. "Not on National TV!" But too late. The cameraman spies it first and he is getting a close-up...of the poop! I clean it up, muttering under my breath as I prepare to fill up the row of bowls with food. Seven happy cats, one pissed off pet owner and a quivering little chihuahua, all caught on tape.
And I still don't know what I'm in for here. I'm thinking that I handled that pretty well. My life with these animals is not so abnormal. I can handle it. I am NOT overwhelmed. Am I?
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Animal Hoarding
I have to take a break from my life story to get to the root of why I started this blog in the first place.
A few months ago, I saw an ad on the internet looking for people who had a lot of household pets. I wrote them an email and explained that (at the time) we had four dogs, seven cats, four parakeets, four frogs and two leopard Geckos. I wrote that I was the primary caregiver for the animals and that they were not a burden or a problem for me. What happened next was interesting.
I got a phone call from a young woman. She represented a production company that was interested in hearing my whole story. I've never been shy about telling people about myself, so I took the bait. I described our home, our living situation, our philosophies. I talked about my pets, my kids and my husband. She asked questions, I answered them. She then asked if it might be possible to talk with my husband. I gave her his cell number. I told him about our conversation and told him that he should be getting a call. He did.
The story he told the production assistant was a little more, well, blunt and kind of vulgar. He told her how when the cats threw up he wanted to cut their heads off. He told her that he wanted to roast the parakeets for an appetizer. He also told her that he would love to have a giant bonfire and just burn up all my stuff. She thought he was hilarious. Right.
After quite a few more phone calls and question and answer sessions, they sent us a Flip camera and a list of questions for us to ask each other. They wanted us to make an audition tape of sorts. We happily agreed to the task. There was one thing that stuck out for me in the course of Pete interviewing me. Something he said resonated with me and I had to ask him, "Wait a minute...do you regard my pets as some of my things?" I realized that I loved my animal companions immensely and regarded them as part of the family. He did not. The producers saw something in that tape that neither of us recognized. And so our TV story was born.
After a few more phone interviews with the director that was going to shoot our episode, we were all set for the TV crew. They flew in with all of their equipment and became a part of our lives for a week. We were going to be recording a show for Animal Planet! I had no idea what to expect. I also had no idea of where this adventure was heading.
A few months ago, I saw an ad on the internet looking for people who had a lot of household pets. I wrote them an email and explained that (at the time) we had four dogs, seven cats, four parakeets, four frogs and two leopard Geckos. I wrote that I was the primary caregiver for the animals and that they were not a burden or a problem for me. What happened next was interesting.
I got a phone call from a young woman. She represented a production company that was interested in hearing my whole story. I've never been shy about telling people about myself, so I took the bait. I described our home, our living situation, our philosophies. I talked about my pets, my kids and my husband. She asked questions, I answered them. She then asked if it might be possible to talk with my husband. I gave her his cell number. I told him about our conversation and told him that he should be getting a call. He did.
The story he told the production assistant was a little more, well, blunt and kind of vulgar. He told her how when the cats threw up he wanted to cut their heads off. He told her that he wanted to roast the parakeets for an appetizer. He also told her that he would love to have a giant bonfire and just burn up all my stuff. She thought he was hilarious. Right.
After quite a few more phone calls and question and answer sessions, they sent us a Flip camera and a list of questions for us to ask each other. They wanted us to make an audition tape of sorts. We happily agreed to the task. There was one thing that stuck out for me in the course of Pete interviewing me. Something he said resonated with me and I had to ask him, "Wait a minute...do you regard my pets as some of my things?" I realized that I loved my animal companions immensely and regarded them as part of the family. He did not. The producers saw something in that tape that neither of us recognized. And so our TV story was born.
After a few more phone interviews with the director that was going to shoot our episode, we were all set for the TV crew. They flew in with all of their equipment and became a part of our lives for a week. We were going to be recording a show for Animal Planet! I had no idea what to expect. I also had no idea of where this adventure was heading.
Monday, August 2, 2010
There's Plenty More Where He Came From
Things are supposed to be getting better. I have to try to stay in that mindset, but there have been setbacks. I am stubborn and can be very rigid in my thoughts and actions. But I was so open to this idea of change, and now I feel like there are too many corners to try to turn. I wish I could move to a round house!
I went to an all-girl Catholic high school. It was a source of financial stress for my parents as well as myself. I was allowed to go to that school as long as I promised to get and hold a job to pay for it myself. I did. I just really wanted to try something that no one would have expected of me at the time. So my idea was to stay away from places where there would be boys. Little did I know, boys loved to hang around all-girl Catholic high schools.
After graduating from grammar school, I spent the summer working during the day, and hanging out with my friends in the park at night. There was the experimental drinking and different "couplings" going on, but mostly, I just wanted to enjoy the freedom of not having to think too much about what I was going to do in September when high school started.
There was a boy that I thought was so cute back in school, but he was two years younger than me and I knew I would have been teased mercilessly if I tried to go after him, so I did the next best thing. I started to date his brother. We had gone to school together since at least first grade, and I had never noticed him until graduation. How sad and stuck up is that? But I let my intentions be known and he was all for it. DG and I became an item that summer and continued to be an item up through the beginning of our senior year.
Oh, don't fool yourself into thinking that I was committed in any way. He had football camp during the summer, so I amused myself with other guys while he was so busy. One time, at a party, I actually made out with his brother (yep...the same one that was two years younger than me) in my best friend's parent's bedroom. There were the carnival workers, the lifeguards from the beach where I worked, the older guy that worked at a factory, and the guy in the "gang" called TCB (The Chicago Basement). At that time in my life, I was a "boy hoarder". I couldn't get enough of them. I thought boys were so much fun because I felt I was superior to them on so many levels. They were like pets to me. And if one of them bugged out, there were always plenty more where he came from.
And poor, DG; he had no clue of what was going on while he was away. But he'd come back from camp, and we would go right back to being "boyfriend and girlfriend" like nothing was ever going to change. Until it did.
I went to an all-girl Catholic high school. It was a source of financial stress for my parents as well as myself. I was allowed to go to that school as long as I promised to get and hold a job to pay for it myself. I did. I just really wanted to try something that no one would have expected of me at the time. So my idea was to stay away from places where there would be boys. Little did I know, boys loved to hang around all-girl Catholic high schools.
After graduating from grammar school, I spent the summer working during the day, and hanging out with my friends in the park at night. There was the experimental drinking and different "couplings" going on, but mostly, I just wanted to enjoy the freedom of not having to think too much about what I was going to do in September when high school started.
There was a boy that I thought was so cute back in school, but he was two years younger than me and I knew I would have been teased mercilessly if I tried to go after him, so I did the next best thing. I started to date his brother. We had gone to school together since at least first grade, and I had never noticed him until graduation. How sad and stuck up is that? But I let my intentions be known and he was all for it. DG and I became an item that summer and continued to be an item up through the beginning of our senior year.
Oh, don't fool yourself into thinking that I was committed in any way. He had football camp during the summer, so I amused myself with other guys while he was so busy. One time, at a party, I actually made out with his brother (yep...the same one that was two years younger than me) in my best friend's parent's bedroom. There were the carnival workers, the lifeguards from the beach where I worked, the older guy that worked at a factory, and the guy in the "gang" called TCB (The Chicago Basement). At that time in my life, I was a "boy hoarder". I couldn't get enough of them. I thought boys were so much fun because I felt I was superior to them on so many levels. They were like pets to me. And if one of them bugged out, there were always plenty more where he came from.
And poor, DG; he had no clue of what was going on while he was away. But he'd come back from camp, and we would go right back to being "boyfriend and girlfriend" like nothing was ever going to change. Until it did.
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