Bellpoint

In all my imagined futures I couldn't see one where I'd be happily living in dad's house, with him; and in none of the futures I feared was the biggest problem bedbugs, but there you have it.  Yesterday was spent waging a useless war against the horde until the exterminator gave up, stating anything he does is useless due to the amount of stuff in, on and around the furniture. Did you know bed bugs love living in picture frames; he went through ours with the steamer and it looked like something from an ancient Egyptian crypt curse. Bottom line - we need to empty the living room before any extermination could be called effective. Also, my dad's a hoarder, so there's a problem. Mum sewed the covers for that sofa. Mum also died on that sofa, from a smoking-related heart failure at age 62; but that sofa has more bedbugs than the exterminator could deal with, so, much to my joy, said agreed to get rid of it. My dad, the hoarder! That was uplifting. I'm all for removi

  Having left Thailand in a hurry, and having never gotten along well with my dad, and having never liked this town nor the desert, I wasn't looking forward to moving here. I rebelled emotionally, like the teenager I was when I lived here thirty years ago.  But I'm not the same person, and neither is dad, and we're both shocked at the fact we do  get along now. We had our three days of merciless fights at the beginning, but after that - this is like a miracle; we both tweaked and softened and adjusted, and it's been two weeks and it's fine. I can hardly believe that. None of the things I feared happened. The house is still a hoarder's depressing lair, dusty and full of junk and disappointment; but somehow, when he and I get along, that doesn't bother me - no little because I tend to spread order wherever I go. I used to work in arranging and re-ordering and de-hoarding people's homes; it's was many years and a young, healthy spine ago, but while I ca