I didn't get her name, the Hoarder. I was walking the dogs through the condo complex when we rounded a corner and there she was. She was in her 50's or so and looked like a less well preserved version of that horrible Kardashian woman, the woman who's spawn are a blight on every last checkout counter. She was standing in front of a garage clutching a worn Walmart bag that was heavy with... who knows what.
"So how do you like it here?" she asked.
"What?" I replied. We live on a fairly busy main drag and the traffic noise was deafening.
"You just moved in, right? So how do you like it here?"
This time I heard her. "It's nice" I replied. I'd never seen her before so how she knew we had just moved in was a mystery.
She said something else, I could see her lips moving, but the highway noise drowned it out.
"What?" I said.
"I said I like it here because it's so quiet" she said, almost shouting.
Okey dokey.
She then raised her free hand, which actually held a garage door opener, and suddenly with a snap the garage door behind her started to rise, creaking and groaning, slowly raising to reveal...
"The Great Wall of Hoarding".
It was a marvel of engineering. From the slab floor to beyond the door frame there was a solid wall of boxes and plastic bins. Countless Walmart bags were crammed into what little space existed between the boxes and bins, like mortar holding the whole thing together. It looked like the garage door had at most an inch of clearance.
The woman turned from me and surveyed the wall of crap, evidently searching for a weak spot. She then raised the Walmart bag in her hand and with both arms and brute force she shoved it against one of the center boxes. The box lurched back about six inches and you could hear a muffled crash from the back of the garage. The woman seem unconcerned, and really, why would she be? It will be years before explorers reach the back of her garage and discover what broke. With her Walmart bag now perched in it's little box alcove, she seemed satisfied. She raised the clicker and the door started to close. It must have caught something on the way down because there was another small thud and a crash, but the woman was oblivious.
"Have a wonderful day!" she said as she turned to leave.
When the complex goes up in flames, I think we'll know where the fire started. Or maybe not. I have a sneaky suspicion she isn't the only hoarder 'round these parts.
