Well, the farm I’m thinking of should have had a hoarder’s intervention fifty years ago. I mean, marble flooring from a long gone Chattanooga Hotel? Brass spittoon from a long gone Atlanta saloon? A building literally falling in atop a T-model Ford? Thousands of board feet of trees sawn up for lumber when they fell on the farm? There are literally chicken houses filled!
That's the difference. If the stuff lays around long enough, it is worth cash. Most of the time when we skip by the Hoarders program, my wife and I remark that they are not hoarders. Just slobs. Who collects half eaten tuna fish sandwiches and stained underwear anyway? People who don't clean.