Of course, dealing with Mom on top of that wasn't the best situation, but I managed to survive. She's heading back home in the morning.
Unofortunately, I still feel crappy. I did put the HEPA filter in the bedroom so it was at least clean air in there while I slept, but I'm still pretty solid in the let's-not-eat-anything stage. Which sucks, because there is actual food in the house. I will be having some wonderful roast beef and turkey bags in the freezer for some time to come.
The good news is that there was some major smackdown laid on the crapfest that is the house. It's still bears resemblance to a toxic waste site, but it's no longer immediately fatal-- you can actually come in the front door without having to walk through a maze. And my bedroom is looking more college-dorm-room and less Chernobyl-reactor. There may even be a day soonish that I can have people over without fear of losing one or two to the CHUDs that live behind the various piles. We never did find my niece Vicki, though we did find some suspicious bones and a crudely-written note saying next time more cumin, but that's another story, and one that according to my lawyer I should just not talk about at all.
On the darker side, I've had a magnificent magnification and sharpening of my lonely-bone. It is not a part that listens to logic or reason, and it's the same part that finds Kate Beckinsale attractive (redundant as that may seem). It's put labels on a certain look, which has somehow managed to cut through the myriad of Chrstmas Cuties that manage to find their way onto my hard drive this season and worm its way into my dreams, where a beautiful woman comes to me while I'm sleeping and tells me that everything will be alright without ever actually talking, and she slides in bed next to me and brings me comfort and warmth and a sense of belonging.
In the morning she is gone, of course. She was never really there.
And my heart breaks just a little bit more.