Ya may want to put that vomit in a plastic bag -- never to late to start a new, er, hobby.....

SmileWavy

I grew up in that type of environment, no cat poop but my mother could not throw away anything especially any printed material. It was tough growing up in that, it was always a losing battle for my sister and I. We would get blamed for the mess and when we did clean up my mom always had to " go through" everything and she would end up takeing 90% of ot back.
It is a progressive disease and very difficult to treat, I can't watch that program because it brings back so many bad memmories I usually end up yelling at the TV.

I never yell at the TV.

Elvis shot the thing. That's the right idea.

In 1996, I met a very nice looking woman and we started dating. The first time I went to her apartment, she had boxes stacked floor
to ceiling in her spare bedroom and stacks of boxes in the living room. I Asked her if she was just moving in and she said, " No, I have lived here for 17 years". When she went into another room, I took a quick peek in one of the boxes and saw about 30 empty Aunt Jamima syrup bottles inside. Another box was full of empty paper towel rolls. She was normal except for that. I never found the box with ex- boyfriend body parts so I dated her for almost a year. Did I mention that she was pretty hot?

Hot + horny typically = http://www.garagejournal.com/forum/i...illy_nilly.gif

As a college student I did cleaning/painting apartments, condo, houses etc. I did a condo like this, the owner was a surgeon.
About 5 dumpster loads, nicotine dripping from the walls, old piss in bottles, 1/2 inch of scum in the shower, etc.
I saw a bit of that show and he wasn't as bad but....

I restored a house like that maybe 7 years ago. It was 5 degrees out in January, and I was wearing a respirator. We filled multiple twenty yard dumpsters as the entire house was loaded to the gills. Underneath it all there were items that at one time had been quite valuable. Mink coats and stoles, formerly nice antiques, beautiful artwork, mostly in ruins.

We salvaged what we could and stored it in the garage for the family. The whole story of the family was equally sad, and the entire incident was quite disturbing. It was possible to see and sense the insanity, and that was more disturbing than the rooms filled with the unimaginable up past your eyeballs. Much like the scene in the Dickens novel, underneath it all was the ruins of people's lives, quite literally. I literally had the house exorcised, BTW, and prayed over.

It was that creepy.