Eddie Izzard, Fighting the Crazies and Trying Not to Become Homeless

It's cold as crap in the holler this morning and they are all ready muttering about the white stuff by this weekend.

Let the games begin!

I had one of those marathon Saturdays where I try to get a week's worth of running around done in a day. Nail salon, Wally World, hair salon AT Wally World, hospital then back to Wally World again.

If I don't have to set foot back in the World of Wally for a while it'll be okay with me.

In the middle of all that running around, I visited with Ma for a bit. I took her some socks and a few other things. She was using her lack of decent clothes as an excuse to keep from leaving the room and interacting with anyone there. The staff, not Ma, requested we bring her some things so she'd be out of excuses. This has left Ma a little snippy.

I wish I could tell you how she is, but I don't really know. Physically she seems pretty good, although to hear her tell it she's going to drop dead any time now from a mysterious flesh eating disease. She talks nonsense the whole time I'm there, at least now it's imagined gossip about the other patients instead of hallucinations of body parts.

I'm scared to death she'll end up in a nursing home and we'll lose everything we have, which isn't much. The land is in her name, the trailer in both and everyone keeps telling me that if she goes in a nursing home, the state will take it all. I called Legal Aide for advice and they told me to call the Senior Citizens legal aid number because it was an "Elderly Issue." So I did. There I was told that they couldn't advise ME on the situation, only Ma because she was the "Elder" and the land was in her name.

What the hell? So I pay for this damned trailer for the past 15 years and now it's going to be yanked out from under me? The only reason her name is on it, is because we had it refinanced.

I don't know. I've been hitting the "losing my shit" anxiety pills a lot lately.

I've pretty much decided that if that were to happen, I'll take whatever pittance the government will let me have, suck my 401K out of here and run like hell to the coast, where hopefully I'll have enough to put a down payment on a little shack somewhere.

Forget sleep. I toss, turn, flip and flop. Every time I close my eyes and try to relax I remember Ma's pitiful face as she watched me leave the other night, sitting in a dark room with nothing but a chair and a bed. Yeah I know, I sound a tad bit mellow dramatic but it's the truth. I feel like I'm being drawn back to that dark place I was in before I started therapy. I'm fighting it tooth and nail, but sometimes it still washes over me, that doom feeling. If I start to feel like I can't claw my way out of it, I may have to put a call in to the noggin doc.

When I wake up and can't go back to sleep, I've been watching stuff on Netflix on my little netbook. Last night at 2 a.m. I was lying in the dark, cuddled up with the dogs watching Eddie Izzard's "Believe." Ya'll should check it out. It's guaranteed to thwart oncoming anxiety attacks.

Well for me anyway.

For now, I should get to work. Bossholio is gone for the day, as is Lulu. I'm back on the end of the hallway all by myself. I'm going to take advantage of the situation by getting some stuff done.

Ya'll have a good one. Later Taters!!




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