I have exactly 41 hours and 25 minutes to finish three tax returns. The final extended due date is tomorrow. The airport post office is open 24/7. Unfortunately, I happen to know that the IRS doesn't get bent out of shape over a day or two. Also unforutunately, I nearly sliced off the tip of my thumb yesterday using a mandolin. Not the musical instrument. The food slicer thing. Stupid, I know. And the problem with this is that I'm having trouble typing. Which will slown down my tax return prep.
See, I have my thumb in a bulky bandage so that when I bump it, it doesn't start bleeding again. I have a wad of cotton under some first aid tape. It took me a minute to figure out why the letter N kept popping up when I'd hit the space bar. On top of that, it doesn't appear every time when I use my forefinger to hit that key. In the interest of time, I won't correct my little problem and you can nsee nwhatn I'm contending nwith. No kidding. I'm going nton have tonlosse the nbandage. Really.
So, here I sit, creatively procrastinating.n by Blogging. I noticed that I had 70 hits on this blog yesterday. Way more than usual since I haven't neven been posting lately. So I looked up the sources ofn my readers and one of the key search phrases is homemade crack pipe. I posted about my horrid discovery in my closet right after I moved into my new house in April. Darn it. I'm attractng people who want to learn how to make homemade crack pipes. Even worsen is that I posted a picture of said device. So I think I will remove it as soon as I finish here. I shudder to think that this blog would be instructional to crack-heads. Or more likely, novice crack-heads, since the experienced ones probably already know how to make one or have store-bought ones. Scary.
If I make a little progress on my tax returns, I'll ndo my usual Sunday morning thing and watch CBS Sunday moring with The Daddler. We've been watchingn the pennant races ntogether. The games have been good this year n-the Cards are in it and the teams are well-matched. This is our second year to do that. It brings back bittersweet memories of how nwe limped ntogether through those first few weeks without Mother. It'll be a year this coming Friday. Kiddo will be home for fall break so that will be a nice distraction. NHe's been incredibly sweet to me nlately. He's turning into a man, and a fine one at that (I'm a little biased).
FF will be in ntown nfor Thanksgiving, and that's a good motivator to get my house in order. I had na huge carport sale a week nago yesterday. It felt good to get rid nof things, but there's still so much. Lots of blog fodder lately, including the carport sale (a 72 year old man asked me out, plus lots more hilarity with Deb there), The D's chivalrous rescue of the lady who fell down while walking down our street (turned out she didn't know her nname or where she lived), the scary threat of a visit from the Emotional Vampire (it didn't materialize, thank goodness), and lots more.
Better run since I need to replace my bandage with something less bulky and delete that awful picture.
Over and out...
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Closure
Today, Deb and I saw some of our estranged, extended family. It's been nearly a year since we've seen them. I've seen four of them the couple times they've come to see The Daddler, but she hasn't seen any of them. She was worried that the Emotional Vampire would be there. Thankfully, she wasn't.
I told Deb it would be good to get closure. That we should just hold our heads high and remember that we were doing this for Daddy. And that Mother would be proud. And extremely pissed at them. Also, that they'd probably act like nothing had happened.
And I was right. About the closure. But it was impossible for them to act like nothing had happened. Because Deb started crying. Later, I accused her of being a puppet master. She said her tears were genuine, but she did think about the fact that it was a smart political move. She said the tides had turned. And judging by the warm reception we received, I think she was right. I worked it, too. I took the opportunity to set the record straight on a few lies. For example, that I did NOT call the police when EV attacked me in the emergency room. That the nurse called security and that the Po Po just happened to be in the room next door. And a few other things.
What I realized today was that they've never seen how much they hurt me. I've been very strong and resolute when I've seen them. Deb, on the other hand, showed them the effect their awful behavior had on her. One aunt even apologized. The one who said she was going to rip me to shreds when she saw me (she didn't). I never got any apologies, but I don't care. I'm glad Deb did.
With the exception of one aunt, everyone was very sweet to both of us. This aunt just happens to be the homeopathic obsessive-compulsive one who had The D on the phone trying to spell the name of his new medicine. The one on whom I unloaded. By the way, she told everyone I'd cussed her out. Which isn't true. But they don't like her anyway. She doesn't speak to two of her sisters-in-law, so it probably helped my standing in their eyes. Daddy doesn't give a flying flip about her. Her husband was there. He's 88 years old and was wearing Bono glasses. So funny. They don't like him either because a) he's a yankee and b) he broke her wrist one time. My cousin did a good job of impersonating him.
We all had lunch together and had a nice, funny walk down memory lane. And when we got home, sure enough, we felt better. Somewhat vindicated.
It'll never be the same, and I'd be perfectly content if I never saw the EV again, but this was a good exercise. In taking the high road. Putting our damaged feelings aside for The Daddler's sake. And consequently, it was very healing. I guess that's why they call it closure. A wound can't heal until it's closed. And hopefully, one day, all that will be left is a faint scar.
I told Deb it would be good to get closure. That we should just hold our heads high and remember that we were doing this for Daddy. And that Mother would be proud. And extremely pissed at them. Also, that they'd probably act like nothing had happened.
And I was right. About the closure. But it was impossible for them to act like nothing had happened. Because Deb started crying. Later, I accused her of being a puppet master. She said her tears were genuine, but she did think about the fact that it was a smart political move. She said the tides had turned. And judging by the warm reception we received, I think she was right. I worked it, too. I took the opportunity to set the record straight on a few lies. For example, that I did NOT call the police when EV attacked me in the emergency room. That the nurse called security and that the Po Po just happened to be in the room next door. And a few other things.
What I realized today was that they've never seen how much they hurt me. I've been very strong and resolute when I've seen them. Deb, on the other hand, showed them the effect their awful behavior had on her. One aunt even apologized. The one who said she was going to rip me to shreds when she saw me (she didn't). I never got any apologies, but I don't care. I'm glad Deb did.
With the exception of one aunt, everyone was very sweet to both of us. This aunt just happens to be the homeopathic obsessive-compulsive one who had The D on the phone trying to spell the name of his new medicine. The one on whom I unloaded. By the way, she told everyone I'd cussed her out. Which isn't true. But they don't like her anyway. She doesn't speak to two of her sisters-in-law, so it probably helped my standing in their eyes. Daddy doesn't give a flying flip about her. Her husband was there. He's 88 years old and was wearing Bono glasses. So funny. They don't like him either because a) he's a yankee and b) he broke her wrist one time. My cousin did a good job of impersonating him.
We all had lunch together and had a nice, funny walk down memory lane. And when we got home, sure enough, we felt better. Somewhat vindicated.
It'll never be the same, and I'd be perfectly content if I never saw the EV again, but this was a good exercise. In taking the high road. Putting our damaged feelings aside for The Daddler's sake. And consequently, it was very healing. I guess that's why they call it closure. A wound can't heal until it's closed. And hopefully, one day, all that will be left is a faint scar.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)