I am a hoarder. I actually think I'm a compulsive hoarder.
Otherwise known as a 'pack rat' - I keep everything: cards, mail, bills, notes, papers, stuff. I keep it in boxes. I keep it in piles. I keep it in or on every available surface in my apartment. I've been this way since high school. And, today, it all came crashing down.
The building manager had to come into my apartment because he thought water was leaking from my bathroom to another tenant's parking space. This was done while I was gone. He called once I returned. I've been threatened with eviction and I am scared shitless. I've sat on my bed for the past hour, rocking back and forth, crying, shaking and sobbing. Then, I got off my ass. I called my parents. I told a friend. I asked for good thoughts from my friends in TwitterVille. I am putting into a blog for all to see. And prayers will be last. Not a last resort, it's the last thing I will do because it's the ultimate surrender...and God is giving me the 'what for' right now.
Putting this out to people, in this blog, or by me calling family and friends, shames me to no end. I am fucking embarrassed that I am a grown woman who has no impulse control, who can live (in no way is this living at all) in such atrocious conditions! I have a path from my front door to the kitchen, to the bed and to the bathroom. That is all the space I have; the rest is clutter.
I need good thoughts this week, people. And a lot of large trash bags.