My parents are bonafide hoarders. Not in a nasty, dirty-dishes, trash way, but in a garage sale - antiquing way. It's gotten so bad that I told them that I would not step foot in their house until they cleared out a path. They scoffed, and didn't believe me.
Their house is so full that there are little 1ft wide paths leading from room to room. They have 3 refrigerators full of food that they are hoarding. The house is full of guns, bullets, fishing rods, every year of Southern Living cookbooks (in duplicate), mismatched china sets never used, figurines, porcelain replicas of president's wives, broken antiques, expired medications, expired second-hand canned goods, broken jewelry, ugly paintings, empty frames - everything. I once caught Sparky shaking a can of bullets that were left out. I once saw a snake sliver into a pile of junk in the "formal" living room. Allergists beware - this house will kill you with dust.
The hoarding situation is humorous and awful at the same time. I laugh when I tell stories about my parents' nesting quirks. But I'm sad because I will likely never step foot into my childhood home again. Growing up, the house was clean and functioning. But when I left for college, the antique bug hit them, and the hoarding began. My sister and I have tried every approach. I'm left with giving up. They can visit me all they want. Or we'll visit, stay in a hotel, and they can visit the hotel. I just can't let me son play with bullets unattended.