Sunday, November 02, 2008

Hobos (with fingers)

This post is inspired by a conversation I had with my father the other day.

Dad - "My homeless guy won't leave. I told him that after the hurricane I wasn't turning the power back on. I thought that would inspire him to go, but he's still there."

Me - "Well, that's a very interesting story you've got there old man. If I were you I would blog about it."

Dad laughs.

Me - "I WILL blog about it!"

Until earlier this year, my dad "lived" in the house that I grew up in. When I say "lived" I mean that he still kept his furniture and everything at that house, but he spent most nights and days in my sister's house. My sister and her husband moved into a new neighborhood near (1 mile or 1.6 kilometers) my dad and my sister enlisted my dad's help in babysitting my nephew while she and her husband worked. So my dad, being the person that he is, sort of "moved in" with them. Since then, and that's a story for another post, my dad purchased yet another home and moved to the next street over from my sister.

Somehow, and I am not totally clear on the whole story, my dad invited a homeless man to live in my childhood home. My childhood home had no running water (it had running water when I lived there, I didn't grow up THAT hippie). But since this guy had been homeless, I suppose running water wasn't his biggest priority.

At one point my dad said to me "I think my homeless guy has some sort of mental disorder." I said, "Gee Daddy, you think?" Then he proceeds to explain the symptoms to me because in my dad's mind being in your senior year of college for a degree in psychology makes you an expert on mental disorders (for all you psych majors out there, laugh along with me...I took exactly ONE course in abnormal psychology - which BTW was a psych elective).

This is probably a good time to mention that my dad also has a mental disorder. He has compulsive hoarding disorder. So my childhood home is packed full of stuff. Seriously. You have absolutely no idea how bad this is.

But that's okay, 'cause there's a homeless guy living amongst the clutter. He probably feels at home. Which is actually quite punny.


  1. wow. that is some story. And, isn't your dad the most generous of souls??

  2. lol at the pun! That's an amazing story. I hope that it all works out.

  3. Very punny! I also have an uncle with (what I think is) a hoarding disorder. Last time I was at his house, you literally had to thread your way through piles of newspapers, magazines etc. It is a difficult thing. I hope everything works out OK.

  4. Hi and thanks for dropping by.



  5. oy with the poodles already! my boyfriend's mom is a CRAZY hoarder. seriously, it's like, so annoying. she has cabinets full of cra (my p key is not working and i'm not dealing with it anymore) in the HALLWAY. like, the hallways are lined with cabinets... which make for narrow hallways. and the crap! oy with the cra! bookshelves and cabinets that cover WINDOWS!!! you can't even open the blinds because there's crap in front of them. the backyard, the patio... full of crap. BOXES of crap. boxes are falling apart....

    wow... i went on a rant there. sorry.

    i feel yer pain. there.

    my verification word is shumen. what's a shumen?

  6. I reckon a homeless guy is much better security than a guard dog.

    As long as he is toilet trained.

  7. Now I understand a bit better how you came to be such a character.


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