Yesterday Erin and I arrived in Chicago for what we thought would be a vacation. I was coming to see my pseudo-grandfather who has been sick and dust his house before he got home from rehab. Erin was a long for the ride. We thought it would be a quick swiffer and a few visits to a rehab clinic and then we could hang out in the city sipping cocktails (diet coke with cherries and grenadine), going to shows and museums.
No
Nope
Wrong
The airport was lovely, the flight was fast and pleasant, my grandfathers girlfriend even picked us up at Midway. Everything was peachy. I thought we would go to Martins, take a quick nap, get lunch and go out.
No
Nope
Wrong
Martin’s house (Martin being the grandfather figure) wasn’t simply dusty, it was hoarder level horrifying. Hadn’t been dusted since the 70s. levels upon levels of clothes, papers, knickknacks (including but not limited to; 8 vacuum cleaners none of which work, approximately 8million pieces of moldy Tupperware, epically random pieces of clothing in epically random places around the house)
Getting over the shock of how messy Martins house was I realized that this is what happens with age, you acquire stuff, things you can’t bare to part with, things you always think you’ll get around to using. Objects. However, when you get old you lose some of your mobility your objects don’t get used or taken care of as they used to. So slowly as the body deteriorates so does your home.
Martin is also a very proud man, he is brilliant and detests asking for help. In his youth, as with most people, asking for help isn’t as necessary. But admitting weakness is hard for everyone, especially when your mind is find it is your body that is failing you, betraying you. And so…Martin’s house went the way of countless homes, sliding further and further in to shambles as age catches up with the children we all are on the inside.
But I digress…Jean, Martin’s girlfriend, has been dealing with most of the day to day of Martin’s care and she is amazing, albeit a little worn out. Jean’s manner of explaining things however, is a bit like a deluge, everything at once. Keeping in mind Erin and I had just spend 2 hours in a airport 2 hours in a plane and were a little wilty from the wear, we were ill prepared to be bombarded with not only the magnitude of the cleaning job we agreed to but the wall of information about Martin’s health. Needless to say we were a bit taken back.
As if this were not enough, the car Erin and I were supposed to have access to, so that you know we weren’t trapped in the pit of despair that was Martin’s house, Martin’s car won’t start. Yet another little thing that was slowly piling on top of Erin and I and trying to suffocate us.
It was at the moment that I took control and we got a rental and are getting Martin’s car fix.
Now after one sleepless night, for me. Erin can sleep through the apocalypse and last night she was talking in her sleep telling me something is ‘amazing’ while she strokes her legs. I spent the night trying not to touch anything, watching British TV and silently sobbing on to my iPhone (since of course, there is no internet).
In the morning, approximately 5minutes after I finally passed out from sheer exhaustion, Jean comes to pick me up ( at 8am, and for those of you that know me 8am is down right cruel). We were supposed to go see Martin but just as we set our little frozen feet out the door my Dad calls, Martin is being taken from the rehab clinic to the Hospital. He has a fever and some kind of infection and this is what happens etc etc.
Jean leaves for the hospital, Erin and I sit on the dusty couch in the dingy living room and stare at each other.
Now everyone has soothing activities that they do when they feel slightly unhinged, good pretty people exercise, evil unstable people go to CVS and Starbucks.
Erin and I go to CVS to pick up cleaning supplies (I point to the propane tanks thinking they would be more efficient the swiffers). Then we go to Starbucks.
I know that Starbucks is a huge company which could care less about the individual but there is something about that 5 dollar coffee and generic décor that saves my sanity on a regular bases.
After our brief respite Erin and I go back to Martin’s and…we clean. It’s that “don’t look at the big picture, just clean the mantel piece” kind of cleaning sessions. Erin in climbing all over things cleaning the tops of things that have developed new living organisms. We are scrubbing, swiffering, soaking, sweeping and surprisingly having a pretty good time.
Erin and I can pretty much have a good time doing anything. I’m pretty sure if Erin hadn’t been here I would have laid down on the floor of Martin’s house and become one with the despair and dust.
Its hard to fall into a pit of despair when you have Erin dancing with a coat rack and singing into a swiffer. After getting the house manageably clean and eating a burrito I finally feel like I can sleep and I pass out on the newly cleaned couch for a few hours.
Martin is still in the hospital, the house is still a few steps away from being on TBS (or whatever channel plays Hoarders) but Erin and I are having a good time and we are slowly scraping the dust off of Martin’s home and we are finding that he is still the brilliant Philosophy professor he always has been just with one too many pairs of slippers.
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