That heart stopping moment when someone suggests coming to the house...

My brother Ant lost his job in July after twenty years with the same company and has not managed to find another job yet. He is becoming somewhat predictably depressed and despondent.  His time spent holed up in 'that' house with Imelda only compounds the issue and gives him a somewhat skewered view on life.  He says Imelda is driving him batty.

A few days ago we were lucky enough to secure an advocate for Ant to help him find a new job. Ant is nervous of people he doesn't know and so I thought it would be best if I organised the first meeting with him and his advocate and if I was there for the first time they met.

I spoke to Ant's advocate first to explain the situation and to arrange things for him.  When she suggested we all meet together I thought it was a great idea.  Then she suggested we meet at Ant's address.  I froze.
'NO' - my whole being was screaming at me.
'That simply can't happen!'
So should I explain to her? - No that would take too long and would seem odd.  For one it would seem possibly suspicious - surely nothing can be that bad - everyone's house is a little bit untidy right?
Wrong! - Different league!

I tried (unconvincingly I suspect), to convince her that my house would be the better option.  Amazingly she agreed. Phew - crisis averted.  How would I ever get anyone to believe me without being freaky?  How do I point out that just the mere smell of the house makes me ill and that I can't go inside for more than five minutes these days without feeling the urge to shoot everyone inside and run for the hills.

So we all met at mine. Imelda brought Ant round and we all sat in my living room.  Four adults sitting comfortably in the same room. Imagine!  Imelda had 'forgotten' (read 'mislaid/lost/never taken out of the box) his hearing aid so had virtually no idea what was going on but the thought was there.  He was trying to  help Ant so good on him.

When the meeting was over and the advocate had gone Imelda said he had some letters to show me.  He got some letters out of his bag and within five minutes there were three piles of his paperwork laid out on my sofa and a further four on my kitchen table.  Imelda's coat was on a different sofa and his bag on the floor.  I felt like I was being taken hostage in my own home and had to control my urge to tidy it up.

Imelda said he had some news. There was silence while I waited to see what amazing news this was.  He stood there with an inane grin. - OH - he expected me to ASK what it was.
I asked.
'Well we think we may have won some money' he said and waited for my excited reaction. He fails to realise I am not a child any more. I was not impressed.  What scamming lowlife had got hold of him this time?  It appears he had one of those leaflets which falls out of a magazine and goes straight in the bin (at least they do in my house. In Imelda's house they sit by the front door for twenty to thirty years first). It was one of those where you scratch off the symbols - those ones where everyone wins something but you have to ring a premium rate telephone number and pay £15 or more to discover you have won £5.  I told him to ignore it as everyone wins on those and usually it wasn't worth the phone call.  He wasn't convinced and said he thought he may have won up to £500.  No matter how many times I explained this I would have been better talking to a tree for the amount of notice he took of me.  Sometimes I despair trying to talk sense to him.  The issue is not only that he doesn't wear his hearing aid but that he still thinks I am a 4 year old and continues to treat me and my opinions as such.

He finally found the ticket which he had put in an envelope. Perhaps this is a hoarder thing - he had every letter still in its envelope.  I have no idea why he keeps envelopes for everything - this only adds to the bulk.  He then forgot which letters were in which envelopes and then had so many piles he had to look through each one for the letter he wanted to show me.  There were seven piles of his paperwork all around my kitchen and my living room.  The chaos was insane.  It had taken him about ten minutes to get to this point.  He clearly likes to have space to spread out - so how can he live in his house as it is?

And as a reminder - his house looks like this >>

Yes this is just his living room and the rest of the house also looks like this and YES I did spend six whole weeks tidying up - No you would not know that looking at the house today.

Now I am going to hit my head against a wall...

:)