Living the Dream

It's been over a week since the successful extraction of Squatter. Many tears were shed (hers), many curse words were spoken (mine when I realized that I would have to physically move her shit myself to get her out) but she is gone...gone..gone...gone. <Insert my happy dance here.>

I knew her room was a pig sty but I had no idea how bad it was until I went in there to 'help' her pack up her stuff. And by help, I mean do most of it myself as she sat on her bed patting her cat saying her life was so hard. 'I'm sorry your boyfriend broke up with you and served you with a restraining order but you gotta take your cray-cray elsewhere and get out of my kids' lives. You've had two months to figure out what you were going to do, the time has come to part ways. Buh-bye.'

Her bedroom should have been featured on an episode of 'Hoarders'. I don't believe she was acquainted with the idea of a trash can. She literally had garbage on the floor of her room. The best example to portray the conditions that she lived in  - there was a used pregnancy test on her floor. Along with dozens of dirty forks, knives, spoons, strewn all over her room, some hiding under her mail, some in her bed. OMG, if I had known how bad it was in there I would have never been able to sleep a wink with that down the hall from me. DISGUSTING. You literally could not see the floor of her room except for one small path that went from the door to her bed. The rest of the room was piled high with...garbage, shit, junk. Nothing of value really.

My parents, being the supportive folks they are, showed up on my doorstep the day Squatter was to leave. I didn't call them to let them know I thought I was going to have a hard time getting rid of her. I was embarrassed. My dad said that he knew I was going to say that but that he and my mother know how tenants can be and he thought them being there would help. And yup, it did. The tears that Squatter shed over how can I kick her out of my house when she doesn't have a place to go, why can't I be more supportive since I just went through a breakup myself, that all stopped once my parents arrived on the scene. Thank you Mommy and Daddy!

My parents helped move Squatter's things out of my house. Carried box after box of junk, helped to load up her king size mattress. Have I said lately how lucky I am to have my parents? My best friend also pulled a shift and carried her share of boxes. It takes a village to move out a hoarding squatter apparently. Where were Squatter's friends during this move? She doesn't have any, a direct quote from her. Okay then, I guess my family and friend will haul your shit just so we can be rid of you.

Now that Squatter is gone, the house has a calm, peaceful feel to it.... Not quiet, of course, there are still two rambunctious dogs running around knocking things over and leaping furniture in single bounds. But the house is ours again, mine and the kids. Finances might be a little more tight than they used to be but no amount of money is worth having an interloper in our lives. I can run around naked once again, make as much noise as I want to at 5AM in the morning. Ah, I'm living the dream, life is grand.