Confusion

So we have 3 things we are trying to accomplish: Proerty tax credit,qualification for home and lawn work, how I spend my Soc.Sec. check. Now let's really mess up our mind. Since his mind is disorganized to begin with he is going to jumble the 3 items around, juggle them like little balls. Basically, he will get so confused that he will spend three days composing a list for none of the 3 things he started out with.

There are times I feel that I am living with a child.Unless it is written down so he actually understands what is needed, he can't do it. He spends so much time wasting his time that he never finishes the work he was supposed to be working on. And then, because he has not done the work he was supposed to be doing, he blames me. It is my fault. I am trying to ruin him, besmirch his reputation (that he does not have), am trying to drive him crazy, and then rants at me that I am "fucking sick".

While walking my dog I encountered a man who cleans the windows of the stores around the corner. He told me he had lost the room he was renting and had been living on the street for the past week. He has a cataract in one eye, has lost most of his teeth, and was dressed better than the man who lives in my house.

I make sure when I get dressed, even to walk the dog around the neighborhood, my clothes are clean, everything matches, nothing exceedingly wrinkled. I make sure my hair doen't look like I just woke up, make up on. As my mother would say (and she is a whole other kettle of fish),

" God forbid you are in an accident and you were wearing dirty underware!".

This man has absolutely no shame. If he has a hole in his socks he will duct tape the hole, or heel, or sole. For some reason, and it is not about the style, he wears his pants around his thighs and holds them up with his hand. When asked why he does not tighten his belt, "leave me alone".

He will be given a brand new pair of pants. He will be told to only wear them when he has some place to go, not to wear them to work in. He nods his head in agreement, goes upstairs, comes down to eat, goes back upstairs (all day long this goes on). At the end of the day...the pants have food stains, ink stains, minute holes, and just plain filth dirty. He will continue to wear them until he finally does his laundry.

Most people separate their laundry into lights and darks, towels, sheets. This man throws everything into the washer. He has no lights or whites, he has different shades of gray.

The washing machine is over 24 year old and no longer performs well. There are many times that after the final rinse the wringer does not wring the clothing. He doesn't re -set the wringer and let it go again. He takes the very wet items out of the washer and puts them into the dryer.

When he is done he brings his clothes upstairs and they smell. Not a nice smell.

The dryer is 6 years old. It has a lint trap as most dryers do. In 6 years he has never learned how to empty the lint trap. This is not because no one showed him, taped instructions with pictures to the dryer,instructed him. No, this is because he can not remember and has no desire to remember something so trivial.It is not important to him because when I come to do my laundry I will clean it out. Ergo, why should he waste his time. He is a very busy man.

Smacking my head against th wall

I have so much bile built up that I'm not sure where to begin. At least this way I will not have to burden my children as much as I have in the past, or today.

I am a hoarder, but I actually weed through my "valuables" and try to get rid of the pile up a little each day. Or, I spend one day on say, a closet. I bag for give away, I re-assort, I throw things in the washer, and I throw away. I live with a hoarder. BUT, I live with a HOARDER.

There are 3 1/2 rooms in my house that are wall to wall papers, magazines, folders, boxes (filled & empty), dreck dating back to the beginning of time. Every paper clip, newspaper article, scrap of paper, newspapers, book, photograph, hell, you name it is in these 3 rooms.

In the family room you have to walk on papers if you dare to venture there. His bathroom? a place I have not visited in 5 years, when and if he sits on the toilet the papers are so high his knees hit his chin.

This bathroom used to be nice and the color was blue. The bathroom is now a dingy gray, from filth. Oh yes, these newspapers and articles must not be trashed they are like fine gemstones, to be cherished.

Three years ago, actually more than that, he was asked to please throw things away so that the rooms could be easily entered without breaking one's neck. "You don't understand. What are you doing to me. Are you trying to ruin me, leave me alone!"

Well, you really can get something done that way, can't you? Needless to say I can't access any of the children's books and art supplies that are in the family room. The bedroom he sleeps in , no sane person can walk in there because of all the papers and dreck on the floor, bed, tables, bureaus, etc. And then we come to the sitting room.

I recently fractured my knee in 2 places restricting me from even trying to sneak into these rooms to get rid of some of the trash. My linen closet is in the sitting room and I wanted access.

I niocely asked him to create a path through the morass so that I could actually make use of the closet to actually put my linens in there. Up until now they have sat in piles around the 2nd floor of my house. It took 3 tries to actually clear a small narrow path for me. When I told him that with my brace on the paths were too narrow, I got that song and dance about my ruining him, I'm keeping him from his work,I'm trying to hurt him , dada da. Eventually there was some maneuverability.

So, I'm reviewing old linens and blankets I forgot were there, starting a bag for washing, give away, sweeping crap out and get to a point where I wish to bring a full bag of sheets out into the hall. Because the path was just large enough to accommodate me I knocked one of his cherished boxes onto my bad leg. Ergo, because I never learn, I called him for help. "Oh my god, what have you done? Why did you touch my papers? You did that deliberately" and so on. The upshot? While he stood there wringing his hands in anguish, I picked up the friggin' box and stuck it on a pile of papers. He dithered in that room for 15 minutes and I ended up solving the problem, which I should have done in the first place.

Maybe now I have learned my lesson. God forbid I should ever depend on him.

Okay, now I am in the position of paying all the bills on this house we live in. He ,for now, pays the water bill. Now, basically, I really cannot afford to pay all the bills for the house,car, my charges, my loans, our equity loan, etc. Every month something changes and his social security benefit suddenly can't help pay for one of the utilities. As of 2 months ago he was making the Gas & Electric payment; all of a sudden he has no money to pay. And, of course, this is at the same time as the hot water heater decides to die and we need a new one.

I am literally robbing Peter to pay Paul. Because I am not working, receiving a check from worker's comp,I am paying bills out of my Social Security and a small savings acct.

I ask him nicely that I need him to pay one of the 3 figure bills this month. He shakes his haead and tells me I don't understand. So I tell him if he does not help me out he will lose a ew of his priveleges. You'd think I was talking to a child; if he is on social security you know he's been around long enough to have learned something. "Don't you threaten me!" that's his answer.

I pay over $2,000 a month so he can live in this house, watch Fios, have hot water, eat my food, drive my car, and I should not "threaten" him.

My son said,postwhere his father could see it, a list of everything that I am paying for and how much they cost. Did that;the man has not looked at it and it is next to his calendar.

My text is being swallowed by the computer so I guess it is time to stop for now.