I know few of you will be surprised at all by that.

Steve was a packrat. I had it in my head that he was a bit of a packrat, but I think the past year of cleaning out his stuff makes it apparent that he was borderline hoard-y.

I’m having a visitor from out of town and I decided that would be my impetus to tackle the last bastions of Steve’s packrattedness. What the hell was I thinking? Did I clean the kitchen and the bathrooms? No. I started a project that makes the entire downstairs look like… like… okay, there are no words. But picture a scene of utter devastation, perhaps after a tornado or an earthquake. Now, imagine that Godzilla comes on the scene and moves another scene of destruction on top of it. Got that? Okay, now imagine space aliens disintegrate half of it.

Yeah, that’s about right.

Then put cat hair on it.

Lucky for me, my visitor is my boyfriend and I think he’s slightly too in love to dump me over it.

Steve was adamant that he wanted me to go on with my life, and he would have been delighted that I found someone to love. But I think I can hear his ghost snickering a little bit anyway. He was never all that interested in making my life easy.