My brother is moving in with us on Sunday.

In the past year he lost his job in the mortgage industry, finalized his divorce (giving nearly everything he owned to the ex-, incl. the furniture, household, & kitchen stuff we bought him before they got married), apparently worked some deal for Volkswagen to sell off his car that hadn't worked in over a year but for which he couldn't afford repairs & insurance anyway to satisfy the last few months on his car note, worked in a laptop repair facility that was a modern day sweatshop before his ride to the building disappeared when his coworker got a new job, and has generally hit bottom.

He has had a rough year. Our first task after moving the paltry worldly goods he has left is to get him a job. One I can drive him to and pick him up from as Houston is NOT known for its mass transit system. *sigh*

Tonight and this Saturday I'll be cleaning out all the junk I have in the guest room. I have no idea where it will go; it's in there because I don't have anywhere else to put it. I suspect I'll miss tomorrow's Pride Parade for which I bought two expensive bleacher seats, damnit, because I'll still be working on it all. (I still have my bone collection in there from my days as a faunal analyst. I'm guessing at this point I could throw it away. I don't know anyone in need of a type collection who can come to get it before I move the brother in on Sunday morning. Good thing it's heavy trash on Tuesday.)

Our house is *small* and it already houses the two of us, the dog, Joe's business, Joe's recording studio, and the Flying Fish Sailors merchandise. I suspect everyone's stress levels will be running high for the next several months.