I ran a call today with one of my guys and the paperwork told us to go in through the garage. When we pulled up there was all kinds of crap and boxes piled up from the floor to just below the ceiling so the door could still open. I thought I had my first hoarder since my obsession began. In fact I was so excited that I must have mumbled something out loud because the guy I was riding with gave me the “What did you say?”
Oh nothing, lets get inside. The kitchen was covered in crap as well but I soon learned that they had just moved from Texas and all of their former home was packed into the two areas I had just seen. The rest of the place was disappointingly empty. I moped my way through the rest of the call and could barely disguise my disappointment.
Upon further review this would not have been my first ever hoarder I just didn’t have a label for it before. When I worked in the ambulance industry we transported a couple of people who had considerable collections. One lady on a neighboring town had newspapers everywhere and I was busy trying to figure out how to trick my friend Tim into accompanying me to her house. He has a thing about newsprint and that place would have been his nightmare.
The only thing that could have made it worse for him would be if the whole joint was made out of Styrofoam. He has a huge issue with the squeaking sound. When we were kids if I wanted to annoy him rubbing two pieces together or chasing him around with a Tribune always worked. I have some Kryptonite of my own but clowns and fried baloney aren’t usually around when you need them. In fact if you are somewhere that clowns are in abundance you need to move immediately as you are surrounded by adults hiding their identities and no good comes from that.