The Wizard From Oz

People are always asking about Kerry.  How did you find Kerry?  She sounds like she works miracles.

A few years ago, my landlord died.  Shortly thereafter, a new landlord bought the building.  i moved in because it was a 1.7 mile (or kms, i forget which) walk to university and never left.  The building was virtually unchanged except for wear and tear.  The parking lot is a pot-holey mess; the garbage bin is never big enough.

Suddenly, changes were legion:  Big metal framed glass doors and a controlled entry system replaced the 1950s wooden-framed, open to everyone glass doors.  The hallway walls were prepped and a beige colour soon appeared.  This replaced a turquoise of such singular luminescence that i had repeatedly confided to neighbours that i was tempted to sneak out in the night and paint fish on the walls.  It was not unlike living in an aquarium.

The sound of lapping water ended at my doorway.  That was the entry to the Twilight Zone pr, to be more accurate, that CHAOS Zone.

Only people who have lived with decades of clutter will understand that CHAOS stands for "Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome".  i, like some of my fellow clutterbugs and littermates and dust buddies, had become expert in showing half a face through a barely cracked door.  And don't let me kid you, i know at least two people who wouldn't answer their doors at all:  Not for the Pope, the late Ed McMahon nor the Second Coming.

Therefore, the trepidation i felt when i discovered that the landlord was randomly replacing windows in apartments might be understandable.  The windows were all...the...way...across...the...room -- the room full of stuff.  Plus two other sets of windows across other rooms full of stuff.

Inevitably, i received due notice from the Super:  The landlord would be installing new windows in a week's time.

Cataclysm.  Shockwaves.  A mental tsunami.  What on earth to do?

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, i remembered that a friend had created a website for someone who helped "around the house".  The business' logo was the familiar image of Rosie the Riveter.  i made a call and subsequently received one.  The voice belonged to someone who sounded no nonsense, down to business, cut-to-the-chase.

When she came to the door, Kerry reminded me of a cross between our beloved, knowledgeable and efficient camp director and the ever-energetic and prepared Miss Hathaway, secretary to the banker in "The Beverly Hillbillies", right down to the cuffed, tailored shorts, sleeveless, tailored blouse and everything but the whistle on a lanyard.  She looked over the top of her glasses at the sign on my door.  She repeated the surname several times.  She then prefaced it with my first name and repeated them together several times, as if searching her memory.

We walked down the inner hall of my apartment and looked into rooms.  We had made it almost to the end of the hall when she had a flash of recognition and shouted my childhood and adolescent nickname and surname together, asking if this was accurate. This added even more to my nervousness about circumnavigating my mess.  "Yes...", i answered.  She asked if i knew someone with a somewhat formal first name and more familiar surname -- for privacy's sake, i'll use the fictitious, "Elizabeth Jarvis".  "Elizabeth Jarvis...Elizabeth Jarvis...  Beth Jarvis?!! i fairly shouted.  "Yes!  She's my younger sister."

Outwardly, i was asking more questions: surname, where is she now? etc., etc.

Inwardly, i had spun out of control.  Words were appearing on a ticker such as used to flicker in Times Square:  "SHE KNOWS EVERYONE IN THE SMALL TOWN WHERE I USED TO LIVE.  HER MOM WORKED WITH MINE.  THEIR LARGE EMPLOYER IN THE SMALL TOWN WAS A GOSSIP HOOKUP DWARFING FACEBOOK!!  EVERYONE WILL KNOW HOW MESSY I AM!!!"

"Beth" was a friend from late Gr 7 on.  We had both been implants to the small town where we'd live until secondary school ended.  Her family had come to Canada from Australia and her mum chatted with the Aussie lilt.  Someone in their house collected stamps and, in particular, first day covers, something which was completely unknown to me previously.

The very good news is that Kerry is very loyal, does not suffer fools gladly and, after a lifetime in helping professions, she knows exactly where the line is and precisely where her tipping point rests.

In the course of a few hours, we managed to clear paths to each of the windows.  The windows were replaced (almost entirely from outside, which made us laugh).

That was about two and a half years ago.  Since then, every so often (the frequency has changed), we launch into our routine of sort, toss, move, swap, donate, recycle, etc.  STUFF has gone and less stuff has taken it's place.  i've also reconnected with a secondary school friend and discovered what an interesting elder sister she has.