Margaret Cho Rocks (aka My Meltdown Continues)

Started cleaning out my parents garage this morning (w/ professional organizer extraordinaire Ms. Hallie Jane). This is actually like Act III or IV b/c I already did this with friends about 3 years ago when my we moved my mom into an assisted living facility. She had Alzheimer's & she was a hoarder. I cannot even TELL you how much stuff we removed from the house & the garage... Two construction sized containers full. You'd think I'm kidding, but I'm so not.

Somehow in the last year of living in this house w/ my dad the stuff has accumulated in the garage again. Some of it is mine certainly, but surprisingly there is still mountains of stuff that was mom & dad's. And that's just in the garage, I'm not even talking about all the stuff that is still in the cupboards & closets INSIDE.

Here's the daunting thing. Because the house is now officially for sale, all this stuff needs to be sorted, donated, thrown away, etc. regardless. Obviously no one will want to keep it once I've moved out & the keys are turned over to Mr. & Mrs. New Owners. At least I don't think they will want a ginormous collection of cake pans or three sets of china & silver.

Yeah, I'm glad that I've hired a professional to help me with it this time b/c I need some serious direction to stay focused & on task. Otherwise my emotions start to get the better of me and I will spend HOURS looking at some stupid trinket that was my mothers, or toying w/ a drafting kit that my father used when he was still working as an Engineer.

We finished about an hour ago... It is boiling hot today. I was sweaty and disgusting, so I jumped into the pool to cool off. That was nice. But now I'm sitting in my room watching The Cho Show (w/ Margaret Cho, duh... whom I love, love, love) and all of a sudden, my emotions get the better of me and now here I sit, in my beach towel, crying my f*cking face off for no apparent reason.

I'll call it my Mini Meltdown - Act I (or is this Act 932?)...

I know this will get better SOME day. But when?! I feel like I'm coming unhinged some days. I'm crabby. I'm sad. I want to pick a fight with everyone. I don't know how to tell people how f*cking bad this is. To be perfectly honest with you, I don't think they'll get it anyway. Not really. And damnit, I want them to get it. I really do. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so alone.

Anyway, thanks Margaret for giving me a moment to cry. I haven't done that much since my folks died. And I'll take it where I can get it.

The End.