Unpacking a Packrat's Hoard. -- Anon Guest
It was a lovely old house, that was certain. It was such a shame that it was filled, floor to ceiling, with packrattus. Great-Aunt Shirl had been one of those people who kept the wrapping paper off of her presents and the stubs from her movie tickets. Everything she had, was kept in the box it came in. And the shopping bag it arrived home in. About the only thing she threw out was the spoiled food, and even that went onto something resembling a compost heap. It was more like a small, artificial hill in the back garden that the magpies and crows raided on a regular basis.
Now that Great-Aunt Shirl had gone to her eternal rest, the only clear spaces in the house were the tracks where her elderly feet had shuffled. Sandra had taken a brief tour of Great-Aunt Shirl's goat trails and decided to camp out in the yard, which was at least free of potential death by avalanche. It wasn't the first time she'd slept in her car, but thanks to Great-Aunt Shirl and her hatred of everyone else in the family, it might be the last. House, land, and everything on it belonged to Sandra, now.
Sandra began by sorting out the things that were stored on the stepladder. Filing them into Recycle, Restore, and Rubbish. The last of that classification went into the gigantic skip that she'd ordered five seconds after deciding on camping. Of the Recycle pile, that was subdivided into two classes, Donate and Recycling Centre. Having had much help from St. Vincent's in the past, Sandra felt it was time to give back. The Restoration stuff, stored temporarily in a U-Store place, would be revived as much as possible before going to an auction house.