Rubber Biscuit

2004 started with me being turned down for disability and filing for an appeal. In the meantime we were living on welfare, my building caretaking gig and whatever odd jobs my sweetie could line up. Welfare in Minnesota is $200 a month and my rent was $190 a month after my caretaker pay was applied. I also received an allotment of food stamps, but there are certain things you can't buy with your food card - like toilet paper, soap, and other miscellaneous hygiene products. So we had a roof over our head, and our bellies were full, but if we didn't figure out a way to generate extra cash we were going to be smelly. Something had to be done. My case worker was also upset to discover that my sweetie was living with me because his official address was at his moms house. Even though my sweetie didn't have a permanent job and his moms place was just a mailing address for him, the case worker said he felt it was fraudulent for him to be there without the folks at welfare knowing about it. For my part, I felt it wasn't any of the welfare offices business if my boyfriend was staying at my house more than his moms. Telling them he was there would only complicate things - so my case worker quit. I didn't care. The guy wasn't really doing anything to help me, he just showed up and asked questions, jotted down some notes and left. I'm not even really sure just what his job was supposed to be...

For a while my sweetie and I worked together on a few painting gigs, and I did laundry for the guy who lived upstairs from us to get some extra cash. Things were really tight there for a while but somehow we managed to keep our heads above water. Another thing I did for extra cash was house cleaning for my old friend the Hoarder.

Some background: I had known the Hoarder since I was about 15 and he hadn't always been a hoarder, a series of tragic life events had triggered it. One of his brothers had died, then another brother fled the state to escape jail time after he was caught embezzling from his job. His sister - the twin of the embezzler - committed suicide, and his father passed away shortly after that. The dudes family had pretty much gone up in a puff of smoke and I felt bad for him. During my teen years we were music buddies, we shared our tapes and albums between us and always tried to stump each other with new stuff the other hadn't heard. He wasn't the first hoarder I'd ever met, but he was the first one I ever tried to help clean up.

The Hoarder used to live a quarter mile from my house in a once beautiful turn of the century home, and despite the deplorable condition of his home I used to visit him frequently. He was full of interesting stories, and quite computer savvy. He spent most all of his free time downloading movies and tons, TONS of music. He had everything I ever heard of and even more that I hadn't, all of which he burned to disks and sent copies home with me. If I was looking for any particular piece of music, the Hoarder had it or he could get it and thanks to him I now have a music library that numbers in the thousands. My sweetie used to go over there with me every once in a while largely because he was awestruck by the Hoarders vast music library, but he didn't really like going over there and was less forgiving of the mess than I was. There was barely anyplace clean to sit, there was bags, boxes and trash piled high everywhere, and the place was infested with mice. When my sweetie was with me, our visits weren't very long.

Anyway, the whole house was pretty well trashed. The Hoarder and his girlfriend (who also happened to be a hoarder) had the place packed from basement to attic with an immense amount of stuff. There was just little pathways through all of it. Compounding the problem was their pets - 4 dogs, 3 cats and a bird who wasn't doing very well. Both the Hoarder and his girlfriend were pretty lazy about cleaning the litter box and letting the dogs out, so the whole place stank of animal shit on top of it. When you add to it that they were also compulsive internet shoppers, well... it was a perfect storm of filth. Still, he was my friend and I didn't want to offend him so I just held my breath a lot when I went over there and didn't say anything about it.

It all came to a head for him one day when the mailman came to deliver a package and got a look beyond the front door. Like most hoarders, they had kept their mess a secret - all the shades pulled and no one they didn't know was allowed in. This time though, the hall door was open and the mailman got a good look inside. The next thing they knew, a public housing inspector was coming over and they were told to clean it all up or their house would be condemned. So the Hoarder called me and asked if I could help tidy the place up. I had no idea what I was in for...and my sweetie - ever the wise one - opted to stay home.

We started on the Hoarders computer room, and at first things were going ok. He had no problem with me hauling out all the empty soda cans and the trash that was on the floor. But when we started on the other stuff.... There was a mountain of stuff to dig through, and it was very much like an archeological dig. He had piles of boxes from Fire Mountain - all unopened. The guy had spent hundreds of dollars on beads and jewelry making supplies and never even opened the boxes when they arrived! Sandwiched between the boxes were articles of clothing and unopened bills and more trash. All of it had been the top of the pile at one time or other - he just kept piling more on top of it. You could tell by the postmarks when stuff had last seen the light of day. Then we finally got to the 'bottom' of that pile, a large trash bag full of old clothes - and the Hoarder had to go through every thing in the bag. I pointed out to him that by the dates we'd seen in the pile, he hadn't seen or used anything in this bag in nearly 10 years. Nope. Gotta go through ALL of it. It was all full of mouse shit and about midway through the bag he pulled out a sweater that had a hole in the belly the size of a dinner plate. Mice had gotten into the bag and were disassembling it to use as nesting material. The Hoarder wanted to keep the sweater! I argued with him for no less than 20 minutes about that sweater. "I can fix this" he insisted. "No" I said, "this can NOT be fixed." I went on to say that everything below that point was covered in mouse shit and piss and wasn't worth keeping, especially since he hadn't seen or used it in all that time. I had a minor victory with that one - he acquiesced and I was allowed to haul it to the trash. After hours of work, we finally had his little computer room tidied and moved on to another room.

And it just got worse from there. His idea of cleaning up was simply to reshuffle the stuff around. Move this to the attic, move that to the basement. Keep everything. He really didn't seem to get it that it wasn't going to be good enough and he was going to lose his house. Eventually I was forced to give up and go home - where I immediately hopped into a scalding hot shower. The inspector came back out and the house was condemned. There was even an article about them in the local paper - it listed their names and described in detail the state of their house. Humiliating. The Hoarders next plan of action? Sell the house and start over elsewhere. /Facepalm. So they listed the house - something I didn't know about until I was over and a realtor suddenly came through with a very unimpressed prospective buyer. The realtor looked appalled. The Hoarder thought his house was worth 160k, but no one wanted it. In addition to the mountains of trash and mouse infestation, there were giant holes in the ceilings and walls. Worse still, the realty company was now refusing to show it and I don't blame them. He wound up calling the "We buy ugly houses" people, who offered him 60k and also said they'd provide a roll off dumpster for the crap he didn't take with him. They took the offer, found a house in their price range down in Albert Lea and moved there.

So now they were in a brand new house and everything was all nice and clean. After their humiliation in the local paper, they said they were determined to keep it clean and asked if I'd be willing to come down once a month to help them if they paid me. I needed the cash and I am unopposed to longish drives, so I said ok. I shoulda known better...

They really got their money's worth out of me. I busted my ass helping them get the furniture arranged, pictures on the walls, knickknacks on the shelves and boxes put away. When I was done it looked like a model home. They loaded up on cleaning supplies and I gave the place a good once over. Then they thanked me, gave me some cash and I went home.

When I went back a month later, I was shocked. I shouldn't have been, but I was. I was supposed to be helping them 'stay on top of it' but they clearly hadn't done a damn thing but generate more trash and acquire more stuff. There was wads of pet hair rolling through like tumbleweeds and a new pile of boxes in the center of the living room. I set to work and had the place looking nice again. I hauled out the trash, I flattened cardboard boxes (which they wouldn't let me throw away), I emptied the cats litter box and swept up the now petrified dog poo and pet hair. I scrubbed the bathroom. I started helping them organize the basement which is where the Hoarder had set up his new computer room and discovered that they had several boxes of dirty dishes down there. They had actually boxed up and moved dirty dishes! The cupboards upstairs were already full to capacity with more clean dishes than they needed, but for some reason they didn't want to get rid of these now moldy dishes that they packed and moved down there. It was beyond disgusting! I didn't complain, I just moved the crap around and piled it where they wanted it. I got my cash and drove back home.

And so it went. Every month I'd get down there and it would be worse than the last time I saw it. Even worse, I was running out of cleaning supplies and they hadn't bought more. I made it very clear that I couldn't clean much without cleaning supplies, but they did nothing. They weren't cleaning up after themselves, and they weren't providing me with the stuff I needed to do the job. After about five or six months of this, I went down there to clean and this time the Hoarder told me they didn't have the cash to pay me. They could cover my gas for the trip there and back, but they'd have to pay me the rest 'next month'. They didn't tell me any of this until after I was done cleaning of course. I was upset but I didn't make a big deal out of it. After all, he was an old friend and I know what it's like to come up short where money is concerned. But when I went down there the next month, the Hoarder told me they couldn't pay me at all - not even gas money! It seems his girlfriend had spent a couple hundred dollars on MAC cosmetics. She didn't even wear make-up, but she blew $200 on the stuff! I was upset. I don't piss gasoline and it cost me $20 at the time just to drive down there and back. Even so, I did my cleaning and the Hoarder said I could take away his cans - at least I could get a few bucks for them at the recyclers and they had a lot of them. So I drove home with my car crammed full of bags of aluminum cans. The trunk was full, as was the back seat and the passenger seat. It was sticky and nasty. At the recyclers I got $25 dollars for them - just enough to cover the gas and a little left over for some upholstery cleaner to get the soda out of my car seats.

When the next month rolled around, the Hoarder asked me if I was coming down. I asked if he was able to pay me. He said yes, so I went. Once again I busted my ass whipping their house back into shape, and when I was done he gave me $25. *sigh* I went home. Meanwhile my sweetie was pissed. I was spending money we didn't have on gas to go down there and clean their shit pile and coming home with just the gas money at best. He asked me why I was essentially working for free. I didn't have an answer for that other than 'He's my friend'. It just wasn't a good enough answer anymore. It was 110 miles one way, it was hard on the car and it was definitely hard on me. So I quit. When the next month came around and I didn't call or show up, the Hoarder called me and we had a little chat. I made it clear that I couldn't afford to keep making the trip down there - not even to visit. I had less cash per month to live on than they did. I also pointed out that they hadn't kept up their end of the deal - they were supposed to be cleaning up after themselves between my visits and they obviously weren't. He begged. Apparently his girlfriend was part of an internet forum for foodies and she had invited several of them to come to their house for an irl gathering. She had even offered to put them up at their place, but their house was of course a disaster. I said 'sorry, no.' I told him that if he wanted to visit, he could drive up here for a change. "There's a free Foghat concert at the Taste of Minnesota" I said. He said 'ok' and then never showed up. Me and my sweetie went to the show without him...his loss. I have no idea if they actually went ahead with their gathering or not. If they did, it had to have been horrible. For a few months after that, the Hoarder kept trying to get me to come back down and clean their house. I kept refusing. We had some vacancies in our building and doing the apartment turnovers paid better than cleaning their mess. 

The Taste of Minnesota happened every year on Harriet Island during the 4th of July. Over priced food, free music, carnival rides you couldn't pay me to go on and fireworks. I saw so many concerts at the Taste that I can't even list them all. For me Harriet Island is synonymous with music, I'd been seeing concerts there since I was a teenager. That summer in addition to Deep Purple, my sweetie and I also saw Bo Diddley. Both put on great shows, I'm still thrilled that I got a chance to see Bo play before he died. The man was legendary.
*edit* Oops...I just realized Deep Purple and Bo Diddley came here the following summer in 2005. Ah well, I'm getting old. My comment about Bo still stands.

As poor as we were, I still managed to squirrel away some cash for my sweetie and I to make our annual trip to the smallest state park in Minnesota. It was something we just couldn't do without. The quiet, the sound of the rapids, the sound and smell of the campfire, and at night the stars...just billions of them. We always referred to site 12 as 'home' and felt sad when it was time to leave and go back to the city. We wished we could live there forever.

Once we got back to town I discovered that my appeal had been denied. I could appeal it again though and this time I got some legal aid. I should have done that sooner because this time it was approved. I was told that in March 2005 I would start receiving social security, definitely a step up from welfare. It had been a rough year, but my sweetie was still sober and we still managed to have some fun despite our limited income. The rest of 2004 was just as lean as the first part, but there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel...