Ms. W spread her arms out and shouted, “Spaaaaaaaaaaace!” as she twirled and beamed! She may have been 65 years old, but in that moment she had the impish grin of a 5 year old spinning in her “new” dining room.

Ms. G fell and broke her hip. She crawled to the bedroom, pulled her sheets, pillows and blankets down, crawled back to the kitchen and laid on the kitchen floor praying one of her neighbors would find her.

Recently we were working with one of Life Easier’s private clients, Alice, on a decluttering project and she had had some clear-lidded organizing boxes from The Container Store she wasn’t using.

Even behind her COVID mask, we could see what she was feeling, we could sense what she was going to say. She sat on the edge of her couch smooshed up against the armrest; her shoulders were rolled forward, knees held tightly together, and her eyes spoke loudly of exhaustion and sadness.

It’s 3 pm on Tuesday, January 3rd.

Him – “I have terminal cancer. The doctors say I have less than a year to live. My kids don’t live in North Carolina and I don’t want to burden them with the clutter.

My client cried almost the entire time of my 45 minute consultation with her. A simple decluttering and organizing project, but her pain is so raw, so fresh and so incredibly deep, I just want to claw it out of her to give her some relief. I could tell this was more than simply the run of the mill depression or anxiety I deal with clients all the time.

I was trying to decide what else to add to this when there was a pad pad pad pad on the carpet behind me.   Then Baby April began howling loudly.
Me: “What??” (Looking at her bubble of a bottom lip that was now protruding forward at whatever injustice I had done.  Of course I was pretending to be exasperated.)

The woman I worked for today lost her husband to COVID in August. They had met when she was just 13 and crossed paths again when she was slightly older.  They didn’t date back then. Life happened and they married other people. Years later after her first husband died she reached out to him on Facebook and sadly, his wife had passed too.

Challenge Take a 3,000 SF and its contents (including an outdoor shed and outdoor closet – no garage) down to a 1,450 SF home that is not filled with boxes. Client signed-contract Friday, May 20th and we had to hand the house over to the buyers by 5 pm today, May 28th.

Never…Ever…Ever…underestimate the power of Trauma. This is my recent hoarding client.  He was bullied ? at his job for several years which timed perfectly for when this home ? went from manageable to unmanageable.

My life as a small business owner is so incredibly different from my life in Corporate America.  My life in CA was very much the Dolly Parton song Working 9 to 5 except I usually was up by 4 or 5 and in the office til past 5.

In a very posh neighborhood of Charlotte, a frustrated, adult-daughter who resides out-of-state convinced her 81 year old dad to meet me. That was in April. No negotiating, no cajoling, no begging by her would convince him to hire me. Therefore, I waited patiently.

Me: “Ok is that human poop on the mattress?”
Client: “Yes.”  (She didn’t turn to look at me.)
Me (scanning the last room of the house on our home tour): “I don’t normally handle projects that have dead animals, animal waste or human waste.  Those jobs typically need a decontamination agency.

In the wake of my divorce, I bristle rather strongly to judgment. I am my own worst critic and I’m happy to observe ways to be better, but I get very frustrated with people these days who reach into my or my mom’s life when they themselves are not perfect. Same goes for some of my hoarding disorder clients whose families simply chalk them up as lazy.

This is Cato.  If you were a Pink Panther fan back in the day you’ll know the reference of her name.  She is the tiniest adult cat I’ve ever seen.  When Cato meows, she opens her mouth and nothing comes out.  It’s a bit funny actually.

One of my clients asked me once “When do I get to see YOUR house?” While I understand the reason for this question, I do not allow clients to come to my home. One actually used the excuse of dropping off a check to me to try and come in and I would not allow her. My home has been my place of healing these last 2.5 years and when life is messy, so are parts of your home.

I’m listening to Mr. E (85) telling me a story about how he acquired a set of artwork.  I had just pulled the two framed prints from the closet and had tried to not ruin his wife’s packing job so many years prior.  He wanted me to unwrap every piece of artwork in that closet so he could see each one and then re-wrap it.

My client took this photo to send to her son.  Her husband handled all of their financial affairs.   She and I now hammer out her financial questions and tasks at the kitchen island, often drinking coffee and munching on Kirkland Pistachios from Costco.

Talking to myself (looking at yet another multitude of PENS I have to remove from a home) – “Ok I’ll bulk these in my garage until I can find a charity that will take them.”

It is rare that I get surprised when I go to a client’s house. Today was a surprise.
Client: “Good morning, Heidi! Before I forget, there’s a grappling dummy in the craft room. It will scare the ever loving heck out of you if you’re not expecting it.”

New client and I are sitting down to finalize the contract. He had two days to read through it.  He is supposed to sign the contract,  initial the exhibit and write a check for the deposit.  (He’s a former judge so this contract should be a snap.)  This is a non hoarding client. As I walk to the table I notice a spot on the hardwood.

Me: “Mom?  You back here?
Mom: (walking out of the master bedroom) “Yes, I’m here.
Me: “Did you find it?”
Mom: “No.”

Clients getting snippy during a session is normal.  Some snap because they are tired, others dehydrated, and others due to low blood sugar. I notice, remind them to eat/drink/take meds and occasionally take the verbal bite. Then I mentally note to book a shorter session next time. It never affects the relationship because the frustration is short-lived.

Me (smiling) – “Say it.”
I had just gotten done explaining my very best decluttering tip. The one tip I give to my one and only my VIP client – my Mom.
Mom (giggling and half pleading) -“But I can save them!”

4 WEEKS AGO
Client: “I think you took it and it got donated. I mean you were handling the book donations.”
Me: “I’m sorry your address book is missing, but I did advise you to store any personal items you did not want to touch in this bin here.