certifiable

if there was a seal, stamp or badge, it now would be attached to me permanently.it's been a busy stressful week of wrangling and reconnoitering. lawyers, snoops, advocates, adversaries, notaries; city, state and federal flaks. the penny bone connected to the dollar bone kinda thing.

the pile of denial has become very small, and i can say, with (mostly?) confidence, i have a handle on it all.

today was to be a big brush-clearing day. just like shrub at the ranch. (no, wait, not like him. i was really doing stuff that mattered. this was NOT a photo op.) i put this with that, files, copies, records, letters, receipts, staples, paper clips, color-coded envelopes.

even though i had a late close, i made it very early out the house, trying to make enough time to truly conquer all before work.

it was steamy hothot. i had to carry lots of stuff.

first stop: the dreaded d.o.r. (cue monster mansion music...) wait in line. metal detector goes off. yeah, yeah, my underwire. "which way to the dor, please?" "it ain't here, lady." "where is it now?" "i have no idea." all the signs en espanol for immigration help should have clued me in, but i was still hopin'. ok. leave the line to call my tax lady. "lady, whaddya doin?" "calling my tax lady, since you can't help me." "you have no business here. get out." ffs. my tax dollars clearly aren't being spent on charm lessons. my tax lady is also surprised the dor is no longer there. she sent me there, ok? closest *might* be in chelsea, but it could be a stealth op. the dor never really ever wants to actually see you face-to-face. ever. i bet if you owed a million bucks and had it in a satchel of cash, plus a posse of ho's to *pay* the interest, they wouldn't tell you where they are.

ok, next stop -- a hop-skip. city hall, tax assessor. another metal detector, not as posh. (hey, statey vs. fed.) but it still rang out a danger-warning about my bra, although this guard just laughed and waved me through. another line upstairs in the mezzanine, but i'm feeling happy, cuz it's money back! woo-hoo. my turn. window. uh, um. oh my FUCKING GOD. i left the house without ANY of the paperwork i prepared. nothing. nada. it was all sitting on my dining table organized and utterly of no use.

i am senile. kaput.

no choice but to go back home, get the sheaf and address some of it in the limited remaining time. 90% got done, but by mail rather than in person, so the lack of expedition pisses me right off. (yeah, yeah, dangle this.) granted, i did get a patsy cline mini-serenade of "your cheatin' heart" (which i just love cuz my uncles and grandfather used to sing it; we will skip ALL the irony of those voices rising up from the jameson's on THAT one.) from bobby at my local p.o. (who is learning spanish! omg, the wonder. truly. and he was so nice and asking the locals to correct him and help him, lol. awesome!)

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in my travels today, i found a little bit of money on the sidewalk. maybe it's time for me to buy a metal sweeper for my long slow days of idiocy at the beach.