I did go for that ride that I mentioned in my last post - but not on the motorcycle.
I've been chatting with Paul off and on via Facebook, and on the phone. I hesitate to even write about it, as it feels very personal.
It is such an odd feeling that I get when I see his number come up on my cell phone. I feel like the 17 year old girl that I was when I first knew him - I get all tongue-tied and shy. That is not a comfortable feeling; I have worked very hard to get beyond that girl that I once was, and I am not thrilled with myself for so easily falling back into it.
Don't get me wrong - I thoroughly enjoy our conversations. I laugh; I cry; we reminisce. It is absolutely wonderful, and I look forward to talking to him again. I hope that once we run out filling each in on what has happened to us in the past 25+ years, that we can still continue talking to each other. I enjoy having him back in my life, and I am happy to count him as a friend. But, I just want it to be more of the grown-up version of me, instead of that 17 year old girl.
He called me last night. I had just gotten home after two disastrous real estate showings. He asked if I was home, and if I'd like to go for a ride. He had to go pick up his son (about two miles from my house), and thought I'd like to come for a ride. Yes - I would! It was a bit awkward leaving the house; I didn't want him to come in. The situation between me and my husband is very uncomfortable, and I don't like exposing anyone to that. I *heard* him pull in the driveway, and I booted it out of the house. Just gave a yell out to all that I was going for a ride and would be home shortly.
I'm terrible with cars - I just know it was a lovely older Mustang convertible (and loud!). We took a short ride around my area, and then he brought me to pick up his son. When he invited me for the ride, he had said that his son was at a friends house. Um, no. Son was at grandparents house (his first wife's parents). I don't think I would have gone if I had known that, and maybe that is why he didn't tell me. At any rate, it all turned out fine. His in-laws are fantastic, down-to-earth, wonderful people. And his son is absolutely adorable.
I was gone all of maybe 20, 30 minutes at most. But it was wonderful. I haven't just gone out to ride in a car with a "boy" since I was a teenager. I *always* have a destination; an errand; an appointment; something. I never just go for a ride. And it was incredibly relaxing. A perfect summer night, top down on the car, good conversation and music, and wind blowing through my hair. Maybe that 17 year old in me still has something to teach me.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Full circle
I honestly believe that there are no coincidences; things happen because they are meant to happen. Good or bad. We just don't know the reason for them.
This whole Facebook phenomenon - crazy, but really interesting. Shortly after I posted about Kevin, I happened (purely by chance) to get in touch with his twin brother, Paul. It wasn't like Paul had read my blog or anything like that - I keep this completely anonymous. We just happened to "meet" again on Facebook. Funny, but sad, thing is - he sent me a message on FB about our teacher, Mr. Dwyer. He had just passed away. It was in Dick's class that I had met Kevin, and started dating him. And I had forgotten that Paul was in that same class. Funny how your memory works. I did not remember that. We shot a couple of messages back and forth over the next couple of weeks. And out of anyone from high school, Paul was the one person that I wanted to make contact with. We were friends back then; we even double-dated to a prom after Kevin and I had broken up. I liked him; he liked me. But it just would have been too weird.
Anyways. Paul called me on my cell the night before my birthday. It was around 8:30 on a Tuesday night, and no, I wasn't at home - I was at Crapplebee's. He came to meet me there.
(But damn, do you think the guy could have given me a little more notice? I mean, really. It had been only 27 years since I've seen him. And I would have liked to at least been wearing some cute jeans, done my hair, had make-up on, lose 20 pounds, etc. But, no. I don't have that kind of luck. No - I only get to see people after I've worked two jobs in a day and am completely exhausted. But on the plus side - no pun intended - that extra 20 lbs. are what have given me boobs. Finally. And yes, they were noticed. :) ).
Anyways, I wouldn't have changed anything. What a trip. We talked, and talked, and talked some more. Life, death, love, Kevin, our kids, our lives. We talked about the past, and the present. It was only for two hours, but it was a lifetime. I learned a lot - mostly about myself.
Kevin had been the one in my life without "closure" - whatever the fuck that really means. I had wondered at times - "what if?". What if I had sought him out way back when, instead of being so shy? What if I had slept with him? Should I have? I ask these questions because I am questioning the choices I have made in my life. Did I make the right choices at the time? Should I have married who I did? I know now that my martial partner is not the right choice for me, but did I know that then? And did I ignore my gut? What else have I screwed up?? What else should I have done different??
After Paul and I talked, I realized that my "gut" was on target even way back then. I had forgotten. Time tends to do that to you. Turns out that Kevin liked to fuck anyone in a skirt. And I was NOT one of his conquests. Phew. That's not to say that he wasn't all that I said he was - he was. And in my memories he will always be the way I remember him. But, I think I need to trust myself more. Even at 17, my gut was on the mark. And it probably still is today at 45.
Full circle. Every person I mentioned in that post, I have made contact with over the past month, in one way or another. How strange is that? And how wonderful.
And Paul has invited me to go for a ride on his Harley this summer. I haven't decided whether or not to go. My daughter ("Crabby") would be mortified (might just be worth it for that reason alone!); my bf will be jealous (he already said that that sounds like a date). I think that I will need to trust my gut. And whatever decision I make, it will be mine.
This whole Facebook phenomenon - crazy, but really interesting. Shortly after I posted about Kevin, I happened (purely by chance) to get in touch with his twin brother, Paul. It wasn't like Paul had read my blog or anything like that - I keep this completely anonymous. We just happened to "meet" again on Facebook. Funny, but sad, thing is - he sent me a message on FB about our teacher, Mr. Dwyer. He had just passed away. It was in Dick's class that I had met Kevin, and started dating him. And I had forgotten that Paul was in that same class. Funny how your memory works. I did not remember that. We shot a couple of messages back and forth over the next couple of weeks. And out of anyone from high school, Paul was the one person that I wanted to make contact with. We were friends back then; we even double-dated to a prom after Kevin and I had broken up. I liked him; he liked me. But it just would have been too weird.
Anyways. Paul called me on my cell the night before my birthday. It was around 8:30 on a Tuesday night, and no, I wasn't at home - I was at Crapplebee's. He came to meet me there.
(But damn, do you think the guy could have given me a little more notice? I mean, really. It had been only 27 years since I've seen him. And I would have liked to at least been wearing some cute jeans, done my hair, had make-up on, lose 20 pounds, etc. But, no. I don't have that kind of luck. No - I only get to see people after I've worked two jobs in a day and am completely exhausted. But on the plus side - no pun intended - that extra 20 lbs. are what have given me boobs. Finally. And yes, they were noticed. :) ).
Anyways, I wouldn't have changed anything. What a trip. We talked, and talked, and talked some more. Life, death, love, Kevin, our kids, our lives. We talked about the past, and the present. It was only for two hours, but it was a lifetime. I learned a lot - mostly about myself.
Kevin had been the one in my life without "closure" - whatever the fuck that really means. I had wondered at times - "what if?". What if I had sought him out way back when, instead of being so shy? What if I had slept with him? Should I have? I ask these questions because I am questioning the choices I have made in my life. Did I make the right choices at the time? Should I have married who I did? I know now that my martial partner is not the right choice for me, but did I know that then? And did I ignore my gut? What else have I screwed up?? What else should I have done different??
After Paul and I talked, I realized that my "gut" was on target even way back then. I had forgotten. Time tends to do that to you. Turns out that Kevin liked to fuck anyone in a skirt. And I was NOT one of his conquests. Phew. That's not to say that he wasn't all that I said he was - he was. And in my memories he will always be the way I remember him. But, I think I need to trust myself more. Even at 17, my gut was on the mark. And it probably still is today at 45.
Full circle. Every person I mentioned in that post, I have made contact with over the past month, in one way or another. How strange is that? And how wonderful.
And Paul has invited me to go for a ride on his Harley this summer. I haven't decided whether or not to go. My daughter ("Crabby") would be mortified (might just be worth it for that reason alone!); my bf will be jealous (he already said that that sounds like a date). I think that I will need to trust my gut. And whatever decision I make, it will be mine.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Ghosts?? Introduce yourselves, please!
I was 12 years old. You know - that totally awkward age - knobby knees, no boobs, and trying so hard to be cool. I read in some magazine how to read palms. It was shortly after that, that my cousin, Beth, came to visit. She was the oldest of all the cousins, and was so *cool*. She was a psychiatric nurse, and had incredible stories. It was an EVENT when she would come up to visit. I was so enthralled with her. This was the 70's, and she was the stereotype of a 21 year old in the 70's.
I remember her last visit at our house; at least I think I do. I remember her laughing with my parents - they thought she was pretty cool too. And she felt the same about them. And she never laughed at my attempts to be cool myself. I remember bringing her breakfast in bed. I remember reading her palm. And her listening to me so seriously. And I felt bad - like I had done something terribly wrong. Her lifeline was so short. What did I know at 12 years old? No one had died yet in my family. I didn't know anyone that had died. Maybe death was a myth after all. I told her that her lifeline ended at 22. I remember her laughing. And I felt better. She wasn't laughing at me; she was laughing at death. She must be right; I must be wrong. What the fuck did I know about life and death?
It was only a month (two, three??) after that visit that our telephone rang in the middle of the night. I woke at the first ring, and I already knew. Before my parents had even stopped the ringing of the phone. Before they had even said even one word into the receiver. I already knew. Beth was dead. And it was my fault; I had already predicted it. She had just turned 22.
Killed by a drunk driver. She was on her way home from work at the hospital. It was Mother's Day.
And that was both the beginning and an end for me.
I don't look at anyone's palms. I don't predict their futures. I know that you may be thinking - that was a coincidence. I don't think it was. There have been many other unexplainable things that have happened a lot like that, and I'm only going to touch upon a few.
When my grandfather died - I knew it before the phone rang. I was 13 then. I remember my father answering the phone - it wasn't late at all, and my mother coming into my bedroom to see if I was alright. She didn't even know yet, but I did. I couldn't stop shaking.
I didn't tell my parents about either of those events. But, I can tell you, it scared the shit out of me.
When my mother was dying - I didn't see it coming. Didn't predict that one at all. But - the phone rang - a night or two after she died - before the wake and funeral. I told my dad the next morning about the man that I had spoken to that night about mom, her death, and the arrangements. He told me that that was impossible. That man had died over 20 years earlier. I had never met him; never heard his name before. But that is who I spoke to on the phone that night.
When I bought the home I am in now - a house that was my dream house - I remember feeling as if everyone I loved that had passed was shoving me aside to get inside to see it (right before we closed on it, I had to come in and get the water meter reading) - I was alone. It was an incredible feeling - not scary - a feeling of absolute LOVE. That family that I have loved, and that were gone, were actually still there - still there WITH me.
I do believe that people you have loved, that have passed, are able to come to you in your dreams. It is probably the easiest way for them to reach you. Your mind is willing to let them in. I have had my parents "visit" me many times in this manner, and it has usually been a comfort to me. (not so much when my mother visited me and wanted to know why I had given away all of her clothes. that was hard. or when I dream that she is really alive, hadn't died all those years ago, but is dying again. those dreams SUCK).
Anyways. Here is the thing. Whenever I am "visited", I always know who the visitor is. I just know. I can't explain it - their presence explains who they are. However, this week, I had a "visit", and I didn't know who it was. And that was kind of scary.
You know when you are just falling off to sleep? You are kind of asleep, but kind of awake? That limbo time. That is where I was. And someone was rubbing my head. It was so nice. I remember even moaning in thanks for a good head rub. And then I came immediately to my senses. HELLO - there is NO ONE in my bed that would be doing that!!! WTF??? I woke COMPLETELY up. Disoriented. Looking around. Nope - all is the way it is. Estranged husband on other side of bed (I told you before it was complicated) - back turned to me. No dogs up in bed with me. I lie back down. I must have been dreaming. I close my eyes. Start to settle back down. And then I feel someone sit down at the foot of the bed.
I sit bolt upright. No one there. Repeat this entire episode about 5 times. Obviously - not the best night for sleep. And it has been bothering me for days now.
So. To all you ghosts out there - please, at least introduce yourselves. If you think that you are on familiar enough grounds to rub my head, at least tell me who the fuck you are. It is only polite.
I remember her last visit at our house; at least I think I do. I remember her laughing with my parents - they thought she was pretty cool too. And she felt the same about them. And she never laughed at my attempts to be cool myself. I remember bringing her breakfast in bed. I remember reading her palm. And her listening to me so seriously. And I felt bad - like I had done something terribly wrong. Her lifeline was so short. What did I know at 12 years old? No one had died yet in my family. I didn't know anyone that had died. Maybe death was a myth after all. I told her that her lifeline ended at 22. I remember her laughing. And I felt better. She wasn't laughing at me; she was laughing at death. She must be right; I must be wrong. What the fuck did I know about life and death?
It was only a month (two, three??) after that visit that our telephone rang in the middle of the night. I woke at the first ring, and I already knew. Before my parents had even stopped the ringing of the phone. Before they had even said even one word into the receiver. I already knew. Beth was dead. And it was my fault; I had already predicted it. She had just turned 22.
Killed by a drunk driver. She was on her way home from work at the hospital. It was Mother's Day.
And that was both the beginning and an end for me.
I don't look at anyone's palms. I don't predict their futures. I know that you may be thinking - that was a coincidence. I don't think it was. There have been many other unexplainable things that have happened a lot like that, and I'm only going to touch upon a few.
When my grandfather died - I knew it before the phone rang. I was 13 then. I remember my father answering the phone - it wasn't late at all, and my mother coming into my bedroom to see if I was alright. She didn't even know yet, but I did. I couldn't stop shaking.
I didn't tell my parents about either of those events. But, I can tell you, it scared the shit out of me.
When my mother was dying - I didn't see it coming. Didn't predict that one at all. But - the phone rang - a night or two after she died - before the wake and funeral. I told my dad the next morning about the man that I had spoken to that night about mom, her death, and the arrangements. He told me that that was impossible. That man had died over 20 years earlier. I had never met him; never heard his name before. But that is who I spoke to on the phone that night.
When I bought the home I am in now - a house that was my dream house - I remember feeling as if everyone I loved that had passed was shoving me aside to get inside to see it (right before we closed on it, I had to come in and get the water meter reading) - I was alone. It was an incredible feeling - not scary - a feeling of absolute LOVE. That family that I have loved, and that were gone, were actually still there - still there WITH me.
I do believe that people you have loved, that have passed, are able to come to you in your dreams. It is probably the easiest way for them to reach you. Your mind is willing to let them in. I have had my parents "visit" me many times in this manner, and it has usually been a comfort to me. (not so much when my mother visited me and wanted to know why I had given away all of her clothes. that was hard. or when I dream that she is really alive, hadn't died all those years ago, but is dying again. those dreams SUCK).
Anyways. Here is the thing. Whenever I am "visited", I always know who the visitor is. I just know. I can't explain it - their presence explains who they are. However, this week, I had a "visit", and I didn't know who it was. And that was kind of scary.
You know when you are just falling off to sleep? You are kind of asleep, but kind of awake? That limbo time. That is where I was. And someone was rubbing my head. It was so nice. I remember even moaning in thanks for a good head rub. And then I came immediately to my senses. HELLO - there is NO ONE in my bed that would be doing that!!! WTF??? I woke COMPLETELY up. Disoriented. Looking around. Nope - all is the way it is. Estranged husband on other side of bed (I told you before it was complicated) - back turned to me. No dogs up in bed with me. I lie back down. I must have been dreaming. I close my eyes. Start to settle back down. And then I feel someone sit down at the foot of the bed.
I sit bolt upright. No one there. Repeat this entire episode about 5 times. Obviously - not the best night for sleep. And it has been bothering me for days now.
So. To all you ghosts out there - please, at least introduce yourselves. If you think that you are on familiar enough grounds to rub my head, at least tell me who the fuck you are. It is only polite.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Finally. Progress. I have learned a couple of things over these past few weeks.
#1 Lesson learned
Getting something done feels *much* better than procrastinating about it. I finally paid all of our bills. Only two months behind on the mortgage. Caught up on everything else. I think I may sleep tonight.
#2 Lesson learned
Ignoring the pile of bills in my bag will NOT make them go away. I thought that if maybe I carried them around with me everyday, that would be as good as actually taking taking of them. Ummm, nope, it isn't.
Phone call received from (crabby) 18 year old daughter (while I am at work - in a meeting, no less) -
Crabby - "Mom. The stove isn't working. And I am hungry. "
Me - "Well, Crabby, what would you like me to do about it? I'm at work. Make something else."
Crabby - "I don't want something else. I want hash browns. Why can't I light it with a match?"
Me - "Because, Crabby, I don't want you to blow up. Wait until I get home." (this is said very, very slowly and patiently).
Crabby - "Fine." Hangs up phone.
One hour later. Phone rings - I'm still in meeting. Crabby again on the line.
Crabby - "I know why the stove isn't working." (said very pissily - if that is a word)
Me - "Why?" (with a sinking feeling in my stomach)
Crabby - "Because our gas was shut off!!!!!"
Me - "Fuck."
Oh yeah, folks. That was so much *fun*.
#3 Lesson learned
The mailbox does not have to be my enemy. I ignore my mailbox. I hate to open it. There is nothing in there but stuff that I shove into my brown bag and carry around with me - it is a literal monkey on my back.
However, today, I took a stand. I am not going to let this fucking mailbox run my life. And I am going to empty out my brown bag and only put things that I like in it. And I will deal with the shit I don't like. So, I emptied the mailbox. And yes, all of the crap bills were in there - but I dealt with them. But there was more than just bills in there.
There was a check for $62 for Crabby in there (refund on security deposit on her dorm room); a check for the Boy who lives in the Room above the Garage - $19 from the Federal Government; AND - drum roll please . . . .
A letter for me. I was awarded a $1000 scholarship towards my tuition for the Fall semester.
Thank you, God. I really needed that this week.
#1 Lesson learned
Getting something done feels *much* better than procrastinating about it. I finally paid all of our bills. Only two months behind on the mortgage. Caught up on everything else. I think I may sleep tonight.
#2 Lesson learned
Ignoring the pile of bills in my bag will NOT make them go away. I thought that if maybe I carried them around with me everyday, that would be as good as actually taking taking of them. Ummm, nope, it isn't.
Phone call received from (crabby) 18 year old daughter (while I am at work - in a meeting, no less) -
Crabby - "Mom. The stove isn't working. And I am hungry. "
Me - "Well, Crabby, what would you like me to do about it? I'm at work. Make something else."
Crabby - "I don't want something else. I want hash browns. Why can't I light it with a match?"
Me - "Because, Crabby, I don't want you to blow up. Wait until I get home." (this is said very, very slowly and patiently).
Crabby - "Fine." Hangs up phone.
One hour later. Phone rings - I'm still in meeting. Crabby again on the line.
Crabby - "I know why the stove isn't working." (said very pissily - if that is a word)
Me - "Why?" (with a sinking feeling in my stomach)
Crabby - "Because our gas was shut off!!!!!"
Me - "Fuck."
Oh yeah, folks. That was so much *fun*.
#3 Lesson learned
The mailbox does not have to be my enemy. I ignore my mailbox. I hate to open it. There is nothing in there but stuff that I shove into my brown bag and carry around with me - it is a literal monkey on my back.
However, today, I took a stand. I am not going to let this fucking mailbox run my life. And I am going to empty out my brown bag and only put things that I like in it. And I will deal with the shit I don't like. So, I emptied the mailbox. And yes, all of the crap bills were in there - but I dealt with them. But there was more than just bills in there.
There was a check for $62 for Crabby in there (refund on security deposit on her dorm room); a check for the Boy who lives in the Room above the Garage - $19 from the Federal Government; AND - drum roll please . . . .
A letter for me. I was awarded a $1000 scholarship towards my tuition for the Fall semester.
Thank you, God. I really needed that this week.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Baby steps
I am taking your advice - I am breaking down all of the baloney that I need to get done into some tiny, tiny baby steps!
1. Clean out purse of about 101 receipts. Stuff into a big envelope. Shove under desk at work.
2. Update Quicken file on-line. Cry when I see the balance in the account.
3. Pull loan modification out of my bag and stack it up nice and neat on my desk.
4. Stare at it for 10 minutes.
5. Go outside and smoke a cigarette.
6. Make conversation with the custodians.
7. Put loan modification paperwork back into my bag and go home for the day.
8. Arrive home; pour a healthy glass of merlot.
9. Listen to eldest bitch about she has so much to do, and not enough time to get it done in (note: I was home at lunch until 1pm, and she was still in bed).
10. Check all of my email accounts for the millionth time today. Respond to anything. (wishing that I had more joke email in my account so I could forward it)
11. Hunt down the thermometer to take son's temp - swine flu around these parts. Temp is normal. No swine flu.
12. Go into bathroom to find a clip to get my hair out of my face. How can I possibly work with my hair all in my face???
13. Look for TV clicker. Decide I'd be able to work better if Law and Order is on in the background. Can't find effing clicker.
14. Go out on deck for another butt. Take call from lien holder's attorney. Bat options back and forth.
15. Stare at bag on floor next to me (with the loan paperwork and ALL of our bills). Wish it would spontaneously combust.
16. Hit spell check on post, and see that it does not like the word "combust". WTF? That's a real word, isn't it??
17. Realize I still haven't found the effing clicker. Yell to non-swine flu son and ask him to get me the clicker from my bedroom.
18. Listen to daughter sigh. It's a hard life. Housework sucks.
19. Pull flashdrive out of bag and get Quicken updated on laptop. Cry when I see the balance. Was hoping that it would somehow change on my ride home from work.
20. Write a post instead of pulling that DAMN paperwork out of my bag.
See, folks - baby steps! It works!
(just kidding - I'm going to work on it now. Damn. I need another glass of wine).
1. Clean out purse of about 101 receipts. Stuff into a big envelope. Shove under desk at work.
2. Update Quicken file on-line. Cry when I see the balance in the account.
3. Pull loan modification out of my bag and stack it up nice and neat on my desk.
4. Stare at it for 10 minutes.
5. Go outside and smoke a cigarette.
6. Make conversation with the custodians.
7. Put loan modification paperwork back into my bag and go home for the day.
8. Arrive home; pour a healthy glass of merlot.
9. Listen to eldest bitch about she has so much to do, and not enough time to get it done in (note: I was home at lunch until 1pm, and she was still in bed).
10. Check all of my email accounts for the millionth time today. Respond to anything. (wishing that I had more joke email in my account so I could forward it)
11. Hunt down the thermometer to take son's temp - swine flu around these parts. Temp is normal. No swine flu.
12. Go into bathroom to find a clip to get my hair out of my face. How can I possibly work with my hair all in my face???
13. Look for TV clicker. Decide I'd be able to work better if Law and Order is on in the background. Can't find effing clicker.
14. Go out on deck for another butt. Take call from lien holder's attorney. Bat options back and forth.
15. Stare at bag on floor next to me (with the loan paperwork and ALL of our bills). Wish it would spontaneously combust.
16. Hit spell check on post, and see that it does not like the word "combust". WTF? That's a real word, isn't it??
17. Realize I still haven't found the effing clicker. Yell to non-swine flu son and ask him to get me the clicker from my bedroom.
18. Listen to daughter sigh. It's a hard life. Housework sucks.
19. Pull flashdrive out of bag and get Quicken updated on laptop. Cry when I see the balance. Was hoping that it would somehow change on my ride home from work.
20. Write a post instead of pulling that DAMN paperwork out of my bag.
See, folks - baby steps! It works!
(just kidding - I'm going to work on it now. Damn. I need another glass of wine).
Monday, June 15, 2009
Update on WTF
My thanks to all of you who responded to one of my previous posts about a family situation (niece living with me, etc.). See a previous post titled "WTF".
An update -
I had to go back to court on Friday with my sister-in-law. We were called in by her ex's divorce attorney's, because they want to get paid. They think that the value of the home is worth more than the two offers that I have on it (read above post - that will give you a *slight* idea as to the condition of the home).
So - my sister-in-law is most likely going to have to pay for a totally unnecessary appraisal (which will run her about $650), which is going to say that the value of the property is crap. Which I have already determined. And - it is money that she doesn't have to spend.
Good news - I did finally get the *entire* family out of the house and into their apartment. And it only took me two weeks to get them all out! AND - will the fun ever end - one of the multitudes of cats in the house HAD A LITTER! Oh joy! Now I have 13 cats to try and find a home for. And did I mention - I'm allergic??? So every time I go over to the house I break out into hives! Yes - I am having *so* much fun! (um, and I think one of the other ones is in heat, and is trying to hook up with one of her sons).
I was able to get some donations for my sister-in-law of sheets, blankets, comforters, towels, etc. (she couldn't take any of that with her; the smell that was on anything "soft" in the house couldn't be moved). Now I'm working on helping her to get food stamps and some furniture (dressers and a bed for her). However, it is hard to get her to sit down and do the necessary paperwork. However - the daughter (my niece) is now living back with her mom. Funny though, my laundry didn't seem to decline at all! What is up with that??
So - we are playing a waiting game right now. Waiting for her to get an appraisal; buyers waiting to possibly buy; attorneys waiting to get paid; lien holder (her father - my father-in-law) waiting to get paid. And me shagging all of the phone calls from all of the above!
Never boring . . . .
An update -
I had to go back to court on Friday with my sister-in-law. We were called in by her ex's divorce attorney's, because they want to get paid. They think that the value of the home is worth more than the two offers that I have on it (read above post - that will give you a *slight* idea as to the condition of the home).
So - my sister-in-law is most likely going to have to pay for a totally unnecessary appraisal (which will run her about $650), which is going to say that the value of the property is crap. Which I have already determined. And - it is money that she doesn't have to spend.
Good news - I did finally get the *entire* family out of the house and into their apartment. And it only took me two weeks to get them all out! AND - will the fun ever end - one of the multitudes of cats in the house HAD A LITTER! Oh joy! Now I have 13 cats to try and find a home for. And did I mention - I'm allergic??? So every time I go over to the house I break out into hives! Yes - I am having *so* much fun! (um, and I think one of the other ones is in heat, and is trying to hook up with one of her sons).
I was able to get some donations for my sister-in-law of sheets, blankets, comforters, towels, etc. (she couldn't take any of that with her; the smell that was on anything "soft" in the house couldn't be moved). Now I'm working on helping her to get food stamps and some furniture (dressers and a bed for her). However, it is hard to get her to sit down and do the necessary paperwork. However - the daughter (my niece) is now living back with her mom. Funny though, my laundry didn't seem to decline at all! What is up with that??
So - we are playing a waiting game right now. Waiting for her to get an appraisal; buyers waiting to possibly buy; attorneys waiting to get paid; lien holder (her father - my father-in-law) waiting to get paid. And me shagging all of the phone calls from all of the above!
Never boring . . . .
Procrastination seems to be my middle name these days. If there is something I can put off (cleaning the house; paying bills; doing my loan modification; filing for bankruptcy; filing for divorce), then by golly, I am putting it off! And it is driving me nuts. As a result of not DOING the really important things that I should be doing, I'm not doing ANYTHING. And that includes posting. About the only thing these days that I have energy to do is laundry. Okay - it's not because I have the energy to do, it is only because I absolutely MUST do it.
I'm excellent at making all kinds of excuses. Busy at work. Busy with second job - working until 8 or so at night, plus weekends. Too much laundry to do. Hung-over (okay, that's not such a good one).
What is my problem??? I think it goes a lot deeper than just simple laziness.
I think I am afraid. Afraid of the big changes that are going to result when I take care of the shit on the above list (and no, I'm not talking about cleaning the house). Afraid that the mortgage company won't give me a loan modification, and then how in the hell am I going to be able to keep the house? Afraid of actually filing for divorce - please don't laugh here folks - cuz I don't want to hurt his feelings (not to mention the guilt because of the kids). OMG - can you believe that??? Thank God my sister doesn't read this blog. She would *kill* me. This crap is not easy. And I hate thinking about it constantly. And waking up at 4am in a panic thinking about it. And I hate that I can't get the house cleaned because all that I think of is the other more important stuff I should be doing.
I'm scared. And I hate that feeling. I'm afraid of the unknown. Can I make it on my own? Will the kids be scarred? Can we divorce without it being nasty? Can I keep the house?
Thanks for listening. I already feel better. Now if I could just finish up that damn loan modification . . .
mel
I'm excellent at making all kinds of excuses. Busy at work. Busy with second job - working until 8 or so at night, plus weekends. Too much laundry to do. Hung-over (okay, that's not such a good one).
What is my problem??? I think it goes a lot deeper than just simple laziness.
I think I am afraid. Afraid of the big changes that are going to result when I take care of the shit on the above list (and no, I'm not talking about cleaning the house). Afraid that the mortgage company won't give me a loan modification, and then how in the hell am I going to be able to keep the house? Afraid of actually filing for divorce - please don't laugh here folks - cuz I don't want to hurt his feelings (not to mention the guilt because of the kids). OMG - can you believe that??? Thank God my sister doesn't read this blog. She would *kill* me. This crap is not easy. And I hate thinking about it constantly. And waking up at 4am in a panic thinking about it. And I hate that I can't get the house cleaned because all that I think of is the other more important stuff I should be doing.
I'm scared. And I hate that feeling. I'm afraid of the unknown. Can I make it on my own? Will the kids be scarred? Can we divorce without it being nasty? Can I keep the house?
Thanks for listening. I already feel better. Now if I could just finish up that damn loan modification . . .
mel
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