My doctor appointment went well. Kristen and I always chat as she goes about pricking my finger and testing my clotting factor. She thinks, given the shit, both literal and figurative, that's going on in my life, that I'm doing very well. I'm coping. I haven't spun off into thumb sucking depression or raging lunacy.
I've talked about the problems with my departing tenants. This would be mostly of the literally shitty kind. Three days of cleaning up other people's shit. I felt like the Sisyphus of Shit. They knew they were leaving then. It seemed so very deliberate and mean. His response was little more than a shrug. They'll be gone by tomorrow night.
Now I have to replace the dead washer and dryer. And since they flooded the laundry room floor and the basement, I may have to make repairs before I can replace these appliances. Shlepping laundry to the Laundromat is a bitch. It's costly, too.
In taking a look at some of the things that needed repair in the main house we, the handyman and I, found what seemed like termite damage under the kitchen sink, and into the cabinet. The kitchen dates from the very early 1050's, maybe earlier. You don't fuck around with termites. Though termites are not all that common in this dry climate. But the damage is in a spot where there has been a water drip. We won't know how extensive it is until we tear out the cabinets. My handyman has a sink that will work there. Sad that I don't get to design the kitchen of my dreams for that house. But it will probably be an inprovement. Hopefully more convenient, cleaner looking, better organized for a cook. I hear the Dartmouth boy likes to cook.
The handsome young gentlemen with nice personalities and sense of humor will still move into the house. Only not until the 14th of May. But in the meantime, there will be some costly remodeling going on even if it is fast and on a severely restricted budget. So today, after my doctor appointment, I went to vist the branch manager of the branch of the credit union I have a banking history going back to the mid 1970s. I have a house that is unencumbered. It's a big lot in a nice part of town. You'd think that would count for something, but still it will take two weeks. Two fucking weeks might as well be two months. I need money now. She asked me about family. I have none. She asked me for references. I must have given her a blank look. She said, "Friends?" I had to think about it. And though my friend and neighbor lives only three houses away, I don't know her address. Fortunately I do know her phone number. I don't have a cell phone with a bunch of programed in names and numbers. I'm a relic. I hardly exist. She asked for another friend. I wracked my brain. I thought of a couple of people, but didn't know phone numbers or addresses. I was ashamed and flustered. I had documentation for proof of property tax and tax valuation of the property. I had proof of homeowners insurance. I have little credit history anymore. But if she googled me, she'd see that I do exist.
Demolition starts Saturday. Anybody in?
Bedside Reading, Cont.
1 hour ago