little_tristan: (Kitten Prepared for War)
The house has become sort of an unarmed camp. Since I last posted, the boys have swung around to my side, but even with three of us we're losing. Or maybe we've already lost. The nemesis is convinced that Willow is attacking him when he's sitting in his office chair in the library. (Having finally destroyed the manual wheelchair he took from me, he's now appropriated the last of the boys' chairs with working features.) She jumps on him, yes, because we can't seem to break her of jumping on everyone. But when she does it to us, we either tell her off in an appropriately stern voice (followed by sit, so she has something to do), or, if we're feeling warm and fuzzy, grab an armful of puppy and get our faces licked. Really, it depends on if she's been out in the mud or not.:)
Much complaining this way... )
little_tristan: (Daria: Jane)
Herr and I are working really hard at being nice to each other. This is strange because we used to be able to do it without trying. But now I want help that he can't give, and he wants help that I used to give but now I can't because that part of me is broken and that's what I need help with and everything's a mess.

I didn't do my homework for therapy, either, which was reading part of a book about death and writing down what I want from my marriage. I don't know what I want.

A Harvard professor is speaking soon (I forget when) on the subject of Black Confederates, which he says is naturally a divisive and argument making topic. And my first response was, "Are there books about that?" Of course there are. None by this professor, but I ordered two paperbacks and a Kindle book already, because I so need to know what was going on in the heads of Black Confederate supporters. Is it really what Margret Mitchell said? I must know. But I already filled in the rest of my reading spreadsheet to make sure I get to 100 books this year (technically I've only completed 70), so I already know I won't be able to read them until next year. Unless I read really fast and have time at the end. Or the covers are so awesome that I just have to bump something else down.

I'm getting more reading done now that I've lost my will to write. I was basically okay with writing fics that almost nobody read, but pouring five years into a novel that almost nobody wants to read (seriously, it's way too easy for me to find out how many have actually sold) is a bit much. So I'm not doing that anymore. For a while. But I will continue to post the huge backlog of stuff that I wrote when I cared. Probably.

There isn't a Willow Wednesday today because Willow got spayed yesterday and she's sad about it. Maybe there'll be Willow Friday, when she's bouncing again.

Season 7 of House came out yesterday. I'm big on pre-ordering, so it just appeared at my door and I've been watching it ever since. I still miss Cameron. But it's better than it was for a while. Season 6 is better than 4. And almost anything is better than 5, except for a couple episodes that were okay. I wish Chase had left instead.

Herr asked for Friday off. I think that's the first time he's ever asked for a day off, if one doesn't count the week he was sick and slept in the truck when Bruder didn't need him. He said he told the boss that he needed the four day weekend because the consensus at home is that he's going crazy. This is true (except for the going part), but I wonder what the significance, not to mention the ramifications, of his actually saying it might be. I also wonder if he'll just use the time to work at home.

Things I want in my marriage:
Positive attention
Conversations that don't center around his work
A meal in a restaurant where his brother doesn't come along so they can talk about work while I read

In a book (or a Dear Abby column) that would be really easy. Even Kay thinks I'm being ridiculous when I say I simply can't have these things. (Hello! Fright Night's been out for two weekends now. Anton Yelchin, back on the big screen, less than a mile away! But have I seen it? I have not.) But she's only seeing one side. If she met him she'd understand. He would spend the whole time talking about how I don't appreciate the importance of his work. And maybe give her the "We're In A War" lecture. Last week he gave the lecture to Kenny Whiskers. But later it turned out to be Murphy Sloane who was screwing off and making all the trouble, so he had to give it again.

One of us has to get happy fast. And Willow has to go outside. I'm sorry for complaining about the heat the last two weeks. Today is cold and wet and I want to turn on the furnace but that just seems wrong.
little_tristan: (Riptide Mimi)
I just called Bruder at work to ask what was the extremely rusty, sad car part in the backyard. To wit: Did the muffler fall off the F-150 this morning, or are the neighbors escalating hostilities by throwing increasingly offensive types of trash over the hedge?

As you can imagine, there's really no good answer. But, yeah, the muffler fell off the truck. From the looks of all that rotted metal, I'd guess we're looking at a whole new exhaust system. Hopefully they can go back to driving the VW without too much inconvenience while we sort that out. (Today they had to take too big a load of tools and equipment to work. This is, after all, why we kept it.)

At least it dropped off before they got out the gate. I'd be so embarrassed if the neighbors saw.
little_tristan: (Emergency! Johnny facepalm)
Remember that lovely wallowing entry last month in which I said that I couldn't even think of ways in which things could get worse? Ha ha ha. I didn't even *think* about the IRS. I suppose it would be worse if they were after us, but it's still not good. They say Mom underpaid her taxes a couple years ago and they want a bunch of money, um, a month ago. Interest and penalties are already racking up. It wouldn't be that big a deal, except that I STILL haven't been appointed representative to the estate, which means I can't pay them. I can't pay anyone, and two months after her death, there are a lot of people waiting to be paid. I can't access the money, and with the IRS, there are a lot of special rules regarding handling taxes on another's behalf. I haven't been able to file her 2010 return, I'm running out of time on her 2011 (yes, you read that correctly), and now I can't take care of this 2009 deal, either. Even if I wanted to pay with my own money, I can't, because I'm not authorized to sign the gorram paperwork.

And before anyone asks, no, I don't know why I haven't been appointed yet. My best guess is that the court system in the county where she resided SUCKS. Seriously. I did my part. My $200 an hour lawyer did her part. There's just some judge down there in the seat of the county named for our 14th president who isn't fucking doing his fucking part. Which my lawyer told me would be the case, what with them sucking and all. Yet I continue to be surprised.

There's a similar problem with Social Security, but I feel safer in telling them to suck it (for now). Because, you know, I'm pretty sure they can't send me to prison. Although I suppose, as I slide irresistibly toward the furthest pits of hell, that anything will soon become possible.
little_tristan: (Riptide Murray in Shock)
Only not to Canby, 30 miles away. If we go, it'll be in search of an entirely new business venture, and we'll end up in either the middle of California, or Detroit. Guess which one I'm hoping for. If you guessed staying here, you win the kwepie doll.

But, in all fairness, I'm thinking it over and making a list:

Pros (or neutrals)

♥ Our house kind of sucks, so chance for a new one!
♥ New church, where there's no vindictive ex-friend to tell the entire congregation that I had an affair with her husband.
♥ Possible new job that Herr will like, where he can work reasonable hours and make a decent living doing something he loves.
♥ Most of my friends are online, so they'll go with me
♥ California would put me closer to favorite uncle and one cousin
♥ California weather would be neat
♥ Detroit weather might kill arch-nemesis
♥ Detroit is closer to my one true [livejournal.com profile] catyah, and possibly within vacationing distance of DC. (Not that we ever take vacations, but still...)
♥ At least I don't have to leave Mom.
♥ Might lead to finally cleaning out attic and basement.

Cons

♠ Probably can't sell our sucky house
♠ No vet, mechanic, pill-pushing doctor, or legal pot connection
♠ Can't travel, so I'll never see my local friends or family (dying sister, awesome cousin, oldest friend) again.
♠ Likewise parents' graves
♠ Lose custom-built library
♠ If the boys die, I'll be stuck there far away from everything I know
♠ Detroit weather might kill me
♠ Would have to drive to new location--very long trip in the van with no sightseeing stops
♠ Murphy Sloane and Roy DeSoto don't take moving well. If Ranger gets lost, she might not be able to find her way home.
♠ Bruder always gets bored partway through packing and just sends half my stuff to the dump.
♠ Can't finish settling Mom's estate from a distance--need my lawyer and accesses to Polk County Court.
♠ Lose awesome accountant.
♠ I was born here and this is where I belong.
♠ Might turn into one of those douchebags who constantly compares her home state to the new one with the new one always coming in a poor second, pissing off the locals until they all hate me. Especially in Detroit.
♠ Have to find a new company to rip me off on wheelchairs. (Assuming Herr's new job has insurance.)
little_tristan: (No Icon)
We lost Doc this morning. I seriously don't want to talk about it, so instead, here's a video of her in all her wacky glory.

Doctor Dog {September 3, 2000--April 23, 2011}
little_tristan: (BtVS Spike Misery)
We lost another soldier last night. Bobby's a little younger than me so we weren't thrown together much, but he had a leadership role the last few years I was at camp. He was funny and brave and always kept the troops' spirits up. Things got hard for him near the end, when our group was disbanded and he lost his support system, but he didn't quit. He fought the enemy to the very end, taking his final breath from a ventilator and trying to open his eyes. He was 30 years old.

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