About Me

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Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!

Saturday, January 12, 2013

So the boys came over this morning.

And we all traipsed over to the bank to get their signatures notarized on the quitclaim deed. Once it is filed and we have a file-stamped copy, I will make a copy for each of them, for their records. And probably a copy for each of my kids as well, now that I think of it.

One of Beloved’s sisters, and our bishop, are each signing an Affidavit of Heirship on our behalf. Turns out that in Texas it has to be signed by two disinterested parties. So we did one for each of them. Same deal. We file that first, everybody gets a file-stamped copy, then we file the quitclaim deed, then we take file-stamped copies to the mortgage holder and find out what happens next, in order to get my name onto the mortgage. If they want to give us a lot of grief (the balance on the mortgage is small enough that they do not want to refinance it) then I will talk to the credit union at work, where we might have more flexibility.

Lorelai is in the shop, getting an oil change and a once-over to find out why the trouble light came on Thursday night, was on all day yesterday and during my 5:00a.m. run to Wally World, but mysteriously disappeared on the way to the mechanic’s.

Spoke with Beloved’s same sister last night when she called to talk with him. She confirms that our idea of using part of the insurance money to pay off what we owe his mother’s estate on the truck, and then selling the truck, is a good one. We should be able to recover almost everything we will have paid on it, making it nearly free for however long we will have owned it. 1BDH will help me get a good price on it. He and Firstborn and Older Twin are putting their heads together to get me some home defense weapons. The other guns are spoken for. (I know that makes some of you shudder. I’ve been raped once, in the dark distant past. Not gonna happen again without a fight. Right now all I have is a hunting knife, and no real concept of how to use it, except to Bobbitt-ize someone after the fact. I do have a little experience with guns.)

With the truck paid off, that lump sum should pay off the lesser credit card if I haven’t already done so at that point. Which would leave me with the larger credit card and my line of credit, and dibs and dabs on three gas credit cards. Also a reasonably workable cash flow (I will be in what is, for me, hog heaven once those debts are paid off) given that between having taxes taken out on a single-person basis to make sure that next year we are not in our current position re: withholding on Beloved’s disability check, plus the return to the former level of FICA withholding, I am down $150+ a paycheck every two weeks. Not helpful.

The bill for the ambulance ride a couple of weeks ago, arrived in this morning’s mail. I will send out a check in Monday’s mail, and I am hoping there will be no more trips to the ER between now and whenever Beloved graduates from earth life. I like PBJ’s, and I like ramen noodles, and I would like a wider variety of options for my lunches and my dinners between now and the inevitable. (I suspect that Beloved will be shaking his head, up in Heaven, as Lean Cuisines and casseroles and leftovers fill up the freezer in place of all that dead meat on the bone that I have no idea how to cook. We have a turkey out there, as we speak, and you all know that I refuse to stick my hand up a turkey’s butt, ever again. His sibs were able to exchange their plane tickets to next weekend. I propose that one of them, or Beloved, is in charge of a turkey dinner sometime while they are here. Failing that, I will be sending lots of frozen dead critters to live in our children’s freezers.

It is raining cats and dogs and little fishes out there. Beloved is dozing out in his chair. Our friend Tom, from church, will be here in a few hours to watch part of the Packers game. We are going to make him wear the cheese head.

I am a little tired, and a little hungry, and I’m not sure whether I should fix a snack or take a nap. Am waiting on a call from the mechanic, and then I will need to call a friend to get a ride over to the garage to pick Lorelai up. The boys, who have been and are being extraordinarily helpful, are otherwise committed this afternoon. (Squishy helped me get the car to the garage this morning.) I really ought to tackle one of the closets, bring down a box or two and figure out what’s in there, but the bed is calling my name. As is the fridge.

Yes, I think we should definitely make Tom wear the cheese head. I don’t know why I didn’t think of wearing it, myself, the last time we had a morale day at work and could wear team jerseys and sneakers. That cheese head is almost exactly my shade of yellow.

1 comment:

Bonnie said...

Just don't try to give me any of your frozen dead animals. :)