So irritating, really

I know there should be some structure to this narrative but I’m just going to start with what comes to mind. Maybe someday I’ll find an editor to help me corral all this nonsense into something worth reading in long form. But today I want to whine about shit that doesn’t matter like omg my ex died and never updated his will after we were divorced so GUESS WHO gets to be the executor of his estate and clean up all his messes post mortem? The good news is at least there is money to take care of his debts so I really have no business complaining. It could be SO MUCH WORSE if you can believe that.  But fuck if I don’t come home from a long day of doing other people’s taxes (glad for the work) and 90 minutes on rainy mountain roads (glad for my cozy home in the redwoods) and then sit down with angry letters from creditors who don’t seem to understand that none of this is really my problem. I’ve just always been the responsible one and that’s the sad fact.

I would run away in a minute if I thought I could get away with it. But the kids, always the kids, even though they’re semi-adults now. They shouldn’t have to deal with this at their tender age. You should definitely be in your 30s AT LEAST when your parent dies. You shouldn’t be a sophomore in college and have to take incompletes for the semester that you have to make up over Christmas break because you simply can’t go back to school feeling the way you do.

You should definitely be in your 70s AT LEAST when your spouse or even (especially) your ex dies. All I can say to you sweet young things out there is if you get divorced, try to get your ex-spouse to change their will before they become an ex-person or at least have the decency to remarry so that their death is someone else’s problem, logistically-speaking. Because someone else should get to (and want to) display that urn (yeah, you know the one) and be glad for the opportunity to plan their loved one’s memorial (ugh do we really have to go out to the beach to scatter the you-know-what and then have food and stuff afterward ugh ugh ugh) and call up all the banks and creditors and lawyers and just everyone and deal with things like why is he still getting charged for phone service when I thought that nonsense was cancelled months ago - oh and who’s going to return the cable box - oh well I guess it’s easier just to pay for it, etc etc etc ad nauseam.

There was a pack of Camels in the glove compartment of his car so GUESS WHO is now sitting on the deck each night with a bottle of IPA and exactly one cigarette because I’m responsible even when I’m irresponsible if that makes any sense at all. I haven’t smoked since 1997 but goddamnit if my ex can die of organ failure from abusing his body for four decades then I guess I can smoke one cigarette a day and it’ll be okay.

Sue me. I have a lawyer now. I can take it.

Okay that’s all I have the energy for right now. Thanks for wanting me to write this. I might have done anyway but now at least this tree falling in the woods is making a sound.

so my ex died a while back wtaf

Hey there. Been AFK for a few months now. I had to take a break to process (whatever that means) the events leading up to and away from the death of the illustrious Mr. K.  I haven’t had the - well, get out the thesaurus - strength? Energy? Tenacity? Will? Enthusiasm? I. Simply. Could. Not. Each day ideas would occur to me, themes I should write about, memories, stories, jokes, even.  This is great material, I really need to make the most of this, I would think. But maybe tomorrow, or next week, or after tax season.

“After all, I’ve suffered an enormous loss,” I said aloud to no one, as I installed myself in front of the tv with a Greyhound in one hand and a vape pen in the other. “I really can’t be expected to do more than the bare minimum. I need to take care of myself first.”

Yeah, that’s been working pretty well for three months. I think it’s time to start writing, or at least typing again.

I took down the Facebook page but I think I’ll bring it back up and see if anyone’s around. “I can’t believe you’re not posting,” said an IRL friend (yes, I do have a few). “There are so many people out there who follow you, they’re going to wonder what’s up. You really have to write something for them.”

Great. Now on top of everything else, I have to worry about you lot. Kidding. I don’t. But I think about you. I want you to know everything’s okay with me. It’s intense. It’s painful. It’s definitely a struggle. A *journey* <gag> But it’s okay.

My ex died from drinking just like I said he would when I left him because he didn’t believe me and wouldn’t stop. Ain’t that a kick? Everything just like I predicted. I was finally proven right, after years of being alternately mocked and ignored.  How do you say, “I told you so” to a dead man? I mean, is it before or after, “I miss you, you sonofabitch, and I didn’t know I would”?

So. Lots of ground to cover. All the feelings. All the things. My plan is to write snippets and post them once in a while, with an eye towards wrapping it all up in some kind of publication someday. But for now, really, it’s been a whole 30 minutes I’ve been sitting at this keyboard. I deserve a break. Now, where’d I put the grapefruit juice?