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This looks eerily similar to my ex-wife's place on a normal day (one of the reasons she's "ex").
The only time it gets cleaned up is if she finds out the landlord's coming over to inspect. When the kids were still living there (one's with me, one's on her own, one's with his older sister(the ex's by a previous relationship) (ironically, she works for Molly Maid) to escape the squalor) I'd have to go over there for two days armed with a case of heavy-duty garbage bags, an array of industrial strength cleaners, power tools, a shop-vac, my own regular vacuum and mops (hers are broken), eye and breathing protection, heavy-duty thick rubber gloves, antihistamines and my own food and fluids. While she went around with a snow shovel (I wish I was making this up) forklifting trash and empty bottles into garbage bags, I'd go around behind cleaning up deposits of dog shit, rotten and moldy food, cigarette butts, spilled drinks, coffee cups half-full of mold and pots and pan encrusted with month-old detrius. By the time we were done, the back alley would be lined with 20 or so garbage bags, I'd have drained the hot-water tank twice just from doing dishes (there is a dishwasher), done 10 or so loads of laundry (taken from a sodden heap as tall as I am in the middle of the basement floor), emptied the shop vac about 5 times, gone through three vacuum cleaner bags.
Six months later I'd have to do the same thing. This last go-around, I said "enough is enough, let her get kicked out" but my daughter took pity on her and went over and did it. I'm in the middle of house renovations so I've got my own problems.
As far as I can tell, the problem is depression (for which she refuses treatment) and a complete lack of organizational skills (mine aren't much better, but I've devised various "divide and conquer" strategies). My version of "clean the coffee table" is something like; get a garbage bag, remove obvious trash, remove valuables to safer locations, dump dishes in kitchen sink (and plan a dishwasher load as next task), mark place in books and magazines and stack, put remotes on the back shelf, deal with whatever's left. Hers is; empty the five ash trays into one (but not dump it out), pile dirty dishes into one stack (but not transport to kitchen), dump books and magazines on floor, throw valuables on couch, shove everything else to one side, grab a fresh coffee (new cup), light up a smoke, discover she can't sit on the couch because it's covered in valuables so dump the valuables back on coffee table, discover she can't put her feet down 'cause the floor's covered in reading material so dump that on top of the valuables losing them to sight and mind, get someone else to turn the TV on (Cthulhu alone knows where the remotes are) and kick back.
She subscribes to newspapers because "normal people get the newspaper" (I don't - the local rags are so full of shit they don't even make good bird cage flooring, won't absorb any more) but rarely reads them past the third page. They quickly create large piles in the middle of the living room that you have to navigate around. The mail gets briefly glanced at but soon ends up on the floor. She never actually gets around to paying the bills so they mount up. In the meantime she's got "extra" money in her account so it gets spent on nonsense. My daughter finally got fed up and moved out when the power went out, yet again. The gas gets cuts off every few months. The only reason it's on during the winter is gas company policy not to freeze anybody out 'cause it would damage the pipes and they might get sued. She can no longer get landline, cable access or a cell phone plan 'cause they want a five-figure deposit. Her only link to the outside world is a pay-as-it-goes cell cards. I used to live across town but ended up moving across the back alley 'cause that's the only way I could keep an eye on the kids. Most nights they'd be banging at the back door demanding food. (No, I will not entertain a conversation about why they weren't living with me, maybe some other time).
The basement is completely impassible except a narrow path to the laundry room. The rest is full of old clothes that don't fit anybody, bags and boxes of collector coffee cups and other memorabilia, broken furniture and appliances, hundreds of stuffed animals, toys the kids wouldn't be caught dead playing with, cat shit (the cat died years ago), mouse droppings (no cat) and just stuff, stuff and more stuff. It can't be thrown out because....well...it just can't. I could fill three dumpsters with it and not even make a dent.
She literally cannot see the mess. She isn't aware that it's there until she literally trips over it (then she just kicks it to the side) or somebody else points it out and demands something be done. By that time it's so overwhelming that she literally has no idea where to start.
Her mother is an immaculate housekeeper, which I think may be part of the problem - the ex never had to lift a finger to clean things up. It just magically happened. However, I was in the same boat but I eventually learned at least some skills. My place tends to be a cluttered mess (especially with reno in progress) but nothing that can't be dealt with in an hour or so and at least there's a place for everything even if it's not necessarily in that place at any given time. Yeah, the cat litter stinks because I don't get down there every day, there's dirty dishes in the sink (but at least they're rinsed and the other sink is clear) and there's a few things in the fridge I'd prefer not to think about (but the majority of the contents is edible food) but I at least know there's problems and have some sort of clue on how to fix them.
Messies don't.
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