This had me picking my jaw up off the floor. It goes on and on, and on, and on, and ON. Just keep scrolling, and it goes on some MORE, until your jaw hits the floor.
I will no longer refer to myself as a packrat. I am not a packrat. THAT WOMAN is a packrat. The scale on which I measure packratism has suddenly increased its range, and I am way down the bottom, along with Imelda Marcos and her shoes. It now goes like this, in ascending order:
BadAunt and her books.
Imelda Marcos and her shoes.
(Somewhere off the top of the chart) THIS WOMAN AND ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING.
(Via Daryl Sng, and where on earth does he find this stuff?)
Technorati Tag: packrat, Imelda, housekeeping
Monday, June 13, 2005
Me and Imelda Marcos
Posted by Badaunt at 8:49 pm 7 comments
7 comments:
I am traumatised just from looking at it!
I thought I was bad about my books...
Someone needs to update her house insurance and then light a match. That house is evidence of more than just pack-ratism. There's a serious problem there somewhere.
Hey, look, I got in today! I saw those photos a while back and in all that clutter, I saw some stuff I know to be worth a small fortune. If they ever get rid of it - I hope they have an appraiser first - otherwise, they will be leaving a lot of money on the table!
Thats a psychological condition - she needs help!
I agree, she needs professional help. Besides living in clutter, this must be costing a fortune.
OMG, I can't not look at it! I officially apologize to my bf, who I tease about packratism...it runs in his family...but all of them combined don't amount to this!
I actually used to know someone like this. Her apartment had little pathways to all the rooms, and everything else was filled with the tackiest furniture, sculptures, knick-knacks, brass wall ornaments, "period" chairs, sofas, tables, armoires, buffets, magazines, books, clothes, you name it. It always smelled musty and moldy, but anytime the family tried to lure her away and get rid of some stuff, she'd go on a tirade and get it all back. Or the couple times they succeeded, she just bought more stuff. Crazy!
I had a friend in high school whose mother had a house looked like this, and she was insane, too. The thing about the prisoners and the window coverings make me think she's probably schizophrenic. Sad. Anyway, those paperweights looked like they might have been Caithness, which means they cost around $300 or more each. Where's the mom getting the bucks to keep buying this stuff? The afghan made me hungry for Reese's pieces!
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