Well, the year that refused to die finally did. And two days before it went off its final rewards, escrow closed and the money from the sale, minus paying off the equity line and back taxes, showed up magically in Joan’s checking account.
Maybe a couple of weeks before escrow closed—I can’t remember—I ordered another one of those huge dumpsters deposited on the Delridge property, and Dave and Dave and Dan and Dylan went up to Delridge and cleared out the final stuff. They filled up that dumpster too with more stuff from outside the house and also with stuff from inside.
There had been talk of selling some of the furniture. Really, though, it didn’t look like we could get much for any of it. But we couldn’t throw the furniture out either. So Dave decided that maybe the best thing to do was to rent one of those storage PODS and have it deposited on the property. So we had one of those delivered to the propery and they filled that thing up too from stuff in the house—furniture and other smaller items.
For a few weeks, Teresa had been sorting through Joan’s clothing to pick out and save what might prove useful, and Steve had made several runs through the house with garbage bags cleaning out the refrigerators and drawers in what seemed an endless supply of chest of drawers.
WB and Joan had always had trouble—especially WB—with throwing anything out. But during the last couple of years in their stay at Delridge things had just gotten out of hand. They hadn’t thrown anything out, but stuffed every nook and cranny with old bills, paper work of all kinds, and just plain assorted junk.
I now believe that if one is old and feels death approaching that one is responsible for cleaning up one’s mess before leaving this earth. Sort of like picking up after yourself in a final sort of way. Because going through your parents’ stuff is hard, not just physically but emotionally.
They ended up filling the POD completely up because Dave didn’t want to have to tell Joan, should she ask, that we had thrown out such and such an item. The POD is now in a storage facility down in Escondido not far from where Joan is staying. I expect it will stay there, unopened, until such time as Joan is no longer around to ask where such and such an item might be.
Then, who knows, what we will do, but we will do something.
Above: a POD, sometimes referred to as the “mobile storage experience.” They come in all shapes and sizes. When the economy completely collapses we will probably start living in those things.