We became defacto hoarders at one point. My mom basically befriends stray people. And they’re all elderly hoarders in low income housing. There’s nothing wrong with that persay and you might even say it sounds noble but this ended up causing some horrible shit for us kids. Like being volunteered to go clean up bathrooms that you should have masks for due to how bad the mold is. Or studio apartments with 6 Ionic Breezes (from sharper image) running all at once. Made the air painful to breathe.

Anyway when they passed away, all their hoarder junk would come to the house. Eventually my room and the basement became storage and I was required to sleep on the couch in the basement. The trouble was that among the boxes of junk there was some good stuff and then there was stuff that clearly was memorable and important to the deceased but totally didn’t matter to anyone else. My mon couldn’t dump the stuff because she felt guilty tossing out something that was important to someone who died, and she didn’t take the time to go through everything quickly. It sucked. I remember getting sick at one point (not related to the hoarding just normal sick) and one of my friends came over to comfort me and she started trying to get in my pants and I was so uncomfortable with how disgusting the house was and I also felt sick that I tossed her out.

There were a few interesting things in there. One of the hoarders came from a verrrrrrrrry famous military family and there were some things I’m pretty sure were taken while on tours of duty. Like opium pipes and ivory tusks.