I have recently become fascinated with two reality shows "Hoarders", and "Billy the exterminator". I never had any interest in either before, but once I saw them, much like a train wreck, I can't look away.
Last night on Hoarders there was a man, Sir Patrick, who never wanted to grow up and face reality. I am not a particularly judgmental person, and I have many friends and acquaintances who dance to the beat of a different drummer. This guy was freaky. He was a tiny man, who had about 12 names, thought himself to be a leprechaun, collected a ton of porcelain dolls, and in my opinion was clearly not heterosexual though they mentioned him wanting a lady companion.
His house was dripping with angel statuary, oriental nick knacks, he wore kimonos. He was a-ok with who he was, and had no problem explaining things to his doctor, and his organizer, like it was perfectly normal. Until they opened the fridge.
Though his house was cram packed with stuff, it seemed clean. But inside the fridge there were roaches. Maybe a coupe dozen little roaches in a little puddle of goop under the bottom crisper drawer. He came UNHINGED. This had never happened before, his world of "Camelot" was not dirty. He then decided that the entire kitchen should be dumped.
I obviously don't endorse filth, but who among us has not found a spill under that crisper that you hadn't known about? It's the perfect hiding place for yuck, and I don't think that it makes you a bad person. He was in Florida, and to my knowledge there are a ton of bugs there. If this was the biggest of his problems, I think he was doing just fine.
Now onto Billy. This morning there was a show about an obviously poor family who had a roach problem. And by problem, I mean PROBLEM. Their home was infested. Not one surface was clean. There was garbage piled high, when they moved the fridge the wall was covered. These people lived in this house, and they didn't have a problem with it until their fancy pants cousin came over and called Billy.
I am not the most tidy person. I have my own issues and do tend to cling to things to brace me during personal crises. But we're talking about family heirlooms, and things that hold personal memories for me. Not to make an excuse, because I know it's a problem. I am not proud of it, but I'm working on it. I have someone in my life now who is supportive, and is really helping me work through it. But bugs? Really? NO!
My home is over 100 yrs. old, and has lots of little cracks and crevices the creepy crawlies can find there way in, and as soon as you seal one, three more open. It's a losing battle. I just keep up with it. As the seasons change we get a few "water bugs" by the back door, which I know are in the roach family, but they are loners. I see one, I kill one, and that's it. Then we get a mouse, and again I catch it, and it's over. One of each per year.
When is the moment that your brain flips the switch and says "this is normal". I know that my collection of stuff is not normal, and I know that bugs are not welcome. But for Sir Patrick, and the Louisiana family that switch was flipped. They had resigned themselves to their crazy, and were just going with it. I fear that even if they get their current issue under control, they have obliterated a fine line between normal, and insanity, and will head back to this same place. There are much deeper seated issues there, and despite the best effort of those involved, these people need way more help than a half hour reality show can provide either of them.
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