Annie quickly set about complete bucket list as she called it. She was gaining weight quite rapidly, and her hoarde was finally beginning to work once Grandfather opened his yap and explained to Annie how she was doing it wrong.

Grandfather was very often a know it all or more like a ‘NO’ it all. No matter how you were doing something, Mr. No it all would come along and explain how you were doing whatever it that you were doing wrong then explain the proper way to do it which was how you were doing it in the first place. It did no good to explain that you were doing it his way because he would say something like, “You used the wrong spoon,” then rummage through the drawer and act like he was rooting for a treasure while yelling, “did you even look for it? RIGHT HERE!” he would announce and hand you a spoon that was an exact duplicate but his face shone with this ’em I right’ look and you just let it go.

Sometimes, I wondered if Grandfather learned from Annie or Annie fed off him. A little of both I suppose, but this time Mr. No it all was right. Annie would just make extra room for her hoardes so our little apartment with a dinky back yard was an endless maze of Annie’s collections and golf courses, and Little Houses and prairies, sugar bushes, animal sanctaries, shopping cart museums. It was endless but organized and neat. Most of the time, I couldn’t even see it, but once Grandfather told her to quit making room for it, stuff began to pile up.

I had resolved myself that it was coming; this ‘reality’ lifestyle and just sort of buckled up and went with it. There was not much I could do about her craziness when she was alive but now that she was dead, it was even worse. I figured it would be better for her to do it and get it out of her system. I mean she currently was getting so fat it was hard for her to get around. Every time she stood she screamed, “OH MY KNEES!”; and cats don’t even have knees.

I had hoped that Annie’s hoarde would  be the type that was just a bunch of unorganized stuff covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs and not one of the gross ones with jars of poo and diapers full of pee. It was Annie though and I knew her hoarde would be the biggest, plus it would be grosser than any other, and it would smell worse than any other. Annie did things ‘bigly’.

It didn’t take long for Annie to have a hoarde the likes this world has never seen growing out of control in our apartment and spilling out into the yard which Annie was piling up with junk as well. Like I mentioned earlier the days seemed endless now, each day seemed like three so it was just a matter of days that we had stuff piled up and shutting off  what little bit of natural light we had.

Finally, Grandfather said, solemnly, “Call them.”

Them was the reality show, Annie had been begging me for ; for days. I resisted and not because I liked the hoarde or wanted the hoarde, I didn’t want the public spectacle end of it. Why couldn’t it be, “Okay Annie you became a hoarder, check it off your bucket list and let’s move on.”

No it had to be putting our dirty laundry, specifically Annie’s dirty diapers which she stored at the end of my bed. Her die-a-rear was acting up she said. The whole house smelled like a radioactive fart. I was glad that at least no one could smell it except for the hoarde of camera people and intervention coaches and directors and stunt doubles and make up artists and a couple of garbage men with a full truck if more was needed for special effects.

There was barely room for the camera crew but Annie was able to move a pile of old fly stickers and used overfilled vacuum cleaner bags. Annie bought both from a supplier in Michigan.

Annie claimed her addiction was caused because she lost her life and that tragic moment caused her impulse to hoarde. Hoardes of old cat litter and a collection of canned goods so ancient the cans were made of tin and there were no expiration dates.

Clean up began, of course true to form all of the contents to our house were dragged out to the yard. Annie’s dried out play dough collection had to be kept, and her collection of ties from famous cadavers. The rolled up carpets that Annie had covered with moose urine and pig poop, garbage, sand and fleas were safely in a dump truck when Annie decided to keep them because of the good memories they held and she wanted to reuse the jars she kept her boogers in, her boogers too but in different containers she had picked up on one of her morning trash runs.

Piles of garbage bags filled with dirt (Annie had a truck load of it brought in), old papers. food wrappers. broken dvds, out dated computer, a pile of red maga hats were all over the back yard awaiting their placement because Annie was keeping it all. In the end she kept it all except for my stuff which made it to the truck then Annie stole it all back in the middle of the night to keep for herself. She even kept a truckload of stuff Duh-Wayne had brought over to make sure there was enough hoarde.

After everything was brought out to the yard and the next yard and the street and the next street Annie gave up nothing. In the end she made more room for all of her stuff, marked a item off her bucket list and life continued with our living space increased.

We needed it to complete Annie’s next challenge her 600 lb life which was finally working for her at a rapid pace.

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