The "House" I Will Never Forget

(Disclaimer: The contents of this post should not be read immediately before, during, or after any food consumption.) (Legal disclaimer: I would not have been able to talk about this, except for the fact that a number of local news sources broke the story about two weeks ago.)

About a month ago, for some strange reason, I decided that getting a job was a good idea. A former colleague/friend of mine keyed me into an opening in the St. Paul Neighborhood Housing Property Improvement office. It sounded interesting and I figured at least I wouldn’t be billing hours this summer. So I sent the required info in and viola… I got a job.

Today was the first day where I really felt like I earned even a small portion of what they are paying me. (Which isn’t much) This was settle-in day. Everything went pretty smooth, and it will be a very interesting job. How is the job interesting you ask, I’m so glad you did.

During my training, I had about 4-5 days with my predecessor.(Mike) On day 3, I show up at the office around 8 am. I am greeted with “Field-trip.” Things are looking-up and it’s only 8 in the morning. I mean who doesn’t like leaving a florescent-bulb-lit office for the great outdoors? So Mike and I drive over to the destination around 10. The house was nothing special, looked like it needed some work, but it was in a nice neighborhood and it really didn’t stick-out. There were some children’s play-things scattered about, and the yard could’ve used a couple of weekends worth of work, but again nothing too crazy. Then we entered the house…

I wish there was some way to convey the smell that we encountered upon entering through the rear door into the kitchen, but then again maybe you’ll get a sense from the following description. Entering the kitchen, one had to immediately take a step-up onto about a foot and a half of garbage. The entire kitchen was filled with every sort of nastiness one could imagine. There was an open package of hotdogs (only missing 3), an open tipped-over jar of mayonnaise, a stove / range covered with dirty pots and pans spewing a black primordial ooze containing god knows what. It was at this point that I really wished I had had some sort of gas-mask or a self-contained breathing apparatus.

After the lovely introduction to the abode, we moved into the main living area of the first floor. Again, our feet never touched any sort of flooring. Imagine walking around your place with random garbage, clothes, etc. at about the depth of the seat of a couch. 4 TVs, were scattered about the room, some buried more than others. We turned to the stairs (Described in a Star Tribune article as a “ramp of garbage.”) carefully making our way to the second floor.

Each bedroom had between one and two “nests.” Just like the first floor, the entire surface area of the floor was filled with garbage. The beds were nothing more than islands in the sea of refuse, barely remaining a float. Fleas circled in the air above, and though unseen there was no doubt that rats scurried about below. Most disturbing of all, there was a crib in one of the rooms that was so filthy and substandard, most people would not even put their pets in it.

The only bathroom I noticed, fit right into the overall scheme of the place. For the sake of decorum I will not elaborate.

Having had the “privilege” to walk through such a shrine to all things unclean I came to a few conclusions.
1. Never underestimate the depravity of human nature.
2. I will clean my house with a smile on my face, for I have seen the “dark side.”
3. I need to thank my parents again.
4. My job, though at times nauseating, will be extremely engaging this summer.
5. Every teenaged boy should have to walk through a house like that.
6. I need to thank my parents again.