Day two didn't go over well at all. Mother decided that talking on the phone for hours on end was more important that doing her share of the work. Unless she is monitored at all time she refuses to clean anything up. Half of me wants to email photos of the downstairs to a therapist to see if they will take her on pro-bono. I could get her admitted, but I don't want her in my life anymore, if she's going to bring this amount of clutter into where ever I am, then I don't want her to be there to begin with.
Day three on the other hand, came about with her sifting through my trash. She was finding useful objects buried among my rubbish. I almost had to physically rip the items from her hands because she was so set on keeping them. Of course, harsh words were traded. When you are at your wits end, you fear it will come to violence. She actually started screaming at me, "Get your own house." I don't need my own house, I'm fed up and I'm doing it hard way. Wish me luck.
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