I was born in the city that I live in; however, my Dad was in a Civil Engineering program 25-miles away so I was first taken as a newborn to married student housing. We moved when I was 13-months, and then we moved all the time literally. This particular move was because my Dad dropped out of the program. I was always thinly blamed for that, which is so stupid. I didn’t ask to be born.

I guess that I had wicked colic. My Mom never much of an eater, and she said that I just basically screamed all the time; but given that my Mom really only liked coffee and cigarettes, I’m sure that my food wasn’t nourishing. I was weaned at 3-months. My Mom was obsessed with me. She held me while I slept. I eventually slept in 16-hour stretches. I guess until I could move around, I was dissociative 🙂 May have had something to do with the fact that my Dad wanted to leave me to die in the snow when I was screaming. My Mom told me that. He decided against it and when I was 5-months, I wasn’t colicky anymore.

On the fourth of July in 1981, I climbed up the hill behind the four-plex that we were renting at the time and got comfortable. That was the only time in my life that I have ever been stung by a bee. When bees sting you, they die and the barb stays. I’d been stung on the wrist and my arm looked like Popeye that night. I love bees. I know that if I hadn’t probably almost squished it in the clover where it was working, it wouldn’t have stung me. My arm was HUGE and we had to keep mixing a paste of meat tenderizer for it. My Mom did that many times and then I started doing it. I was 7-years-old when I got my first sting.

I do not love wasps. I do not love hornets. I have a complete disdain for yellow jacket wasps.

I have to complete all the conditions of probate. I have to file estate taxes by next June. I have to obtain a Personal Representatives Deed. Since 2014 these are many types of tasks that I have had to do. It’s well different than fighting with doctors who wouldn’t let my Mom get surgery, wouldn’t let my Dad take Seroquel, etc. He couldn’t even have one shot of whiskey. Not one. He asked the Medicaid Physician to kill him in November of 2019 and the rounding doctor said he wasn’t terminal. He told my Dad to pray. My Dad told him that he was an atheist. The doctor said, “Pray for death.” Did it work? He got COVID 5-months later.

My son and I went to the house to use weed whackers, but because the soil is so good the prickly lettuce was like bamboo. The Russian thistle could mostly be pulled, but some really had thick stalks. We borrowed hand shears and a bypass lopper from a neighbor. This neighbor wants to buy the house. That would be great. We could stop doing yard work then because I could sell it for 20k less.

The whole thing is Monopoly money anyway. 75k goes to my ex-wife and I have to ensure that I don’t do anything which will result in my having to pay capital gains taxes. Luckily, the final estate appraisal fee can come out of the estate account. There is very little money in there and I’ve already paid $6787.03 out of my pocket, and don’t want to pay anything again. Oddly, that is about what my debt is for the the next 19-months. Almost to the penny. I thought of it as the retainer for the lawyer, new engine mounts for my vehicle, and the trees and irrigation system, but it was really about what I was short this year. I know it didn’t help to be paying maintenance.

The subcontractors who work for the company that gets their piece of the Monopoly money pile at closing are actual shitty people. New things were Cheeto shrapnel, Monster cans and a divided lime. The latter was on the mailbox. When I moved it, a yellow jacket decided to sting me. I think he wanted the lime for a food home. I was able to do 3-hours of yard work, and it certainly hurt. However, yesterday my hand was disappearing. I went back and forth to Urgent Care because my insurance had changed and I initially had forgotten my cellphone. Anyway, it got so gross last night even through two Prednisone. I know that I’m not technically allergic to stings, but I do get weird reactions. I hope that I can bowl on Wednesday. The oven mitt that my hand has become reminded me of my first sting, and how these subcontractors are really unprofessional and sloppy.