SO...

I had an X-ray instead of an MRI, and a cortisone shot in the shoulder to try and fix the problem. We'll see if that cures it (ha).

I haven't been doing anything much; been doing mostly nothing...up until today. Today wasn't meant to be any kind of day at all...until the gas meter lady showed up in the driveway.

After containing Whisper and Spirit, who don't do well when anyone comes near the property, I went out in my pajamas to see what the trouble was.

Turns out she was there to read the meter, and you think, well, this shouldn't be a problem.

Right, unless you have a father like mine, who works at a lumberyard and apparently believes in piling up trash like a very mistaken squirrel. Everything must be saved, no matter how ridiculous it is to save or how useless it is. This would be why one whole room of our house cannot even be entered because of the trash he has inside of it. I really wish I was joking when I say that Mom won't let me try to get into that room because I could really hurt myself trying.

I swore a dozen times today I am marrying a metrosexual, someone who cleans UP after themselves...what a dream...

So, instead of having this woman read the meter, I had to ask her to come back tomorrow because there was so much CRAP in front of the METER down in the bottom driveway. It was embarrassing to have to tell this woman that my father had made such a mess that she couldn't even read a few numbers off of the gas meter.

Then when my mother arrived home, my sisters and I spent hours outside cleaning up and burn barreling ALL of the CRAP in front of the meter so that she could get through to see the thing tomorrow when she comes BACK.

This is not just a small pile of trash that can be cleaned up in a couple of hours (and we only conquered a small part of the mess.) Oh, no. This is boards, of every shape, size, and type. This is display racks for heaven knows what. This is empty boxes. This is socks, and a coat, two pieces of carpet sample, a rat's nest, empty boxes of cans, plastic bags, parts of a swing set, discs for my computer (i would love to know how he got THOSE), metal something else's...

My summer is set. I will spend all of my time trying to keep up with the messes he's making inside the house and out.

We have more to do tomorrow, but a good portion of the FIVE FOOT HEAP of cardboard boxes he had lying in front of the basement door have been burned down to ash. And of course I smell like a campfire thanks to all of it.

So I have to go take a shower, because tomorrow I have lots more cleaning up to do because of my father. Again. He's a wonderful dad sometimes, but I wish he was less of a packrat/trash guru/hoarder/just plain messy human being.

Ta,
Bec