still typing

I wish I had more to write about; that's why I didn't do it sooner. My apologies for a dull entry.

The, uh, 48-hour rule is working. My hand is healing up.

Speaking of hand injury prevention, my sex toy prototypes for other people to try should be here by the end of the week.

The facility that Mom is in is having a COVID outbreak. They've moved her to a different room, and Good Sister has advised the Death Doula not to go until it's safe(r). So, no contact with Mom for my sisters & me for a while.

The insurance company called this morning. I thought they had news of my car, but no, they just wanted to know if I'd paid any impound fees. (I did not.)

I had a lovely dinner with my son last night. He's been complaining remarkably little about not having a car to drive.

The hairy project from last month has just drawn to a close, and was at least commercially a raging success. Go me?

We're six weeks out from the winter solstice. Sunset in Seattle now happens after 1700. We have exited the hole, and I can feel it.

a dispatch from the United Sister Front

I got some email from Good Sister. In addition to being ready to explode yet again because of dealing with a financial institution on Mom's behalf, GS has gotten around to writing a short obituary for our mother, who isn't even at death's door yet, and wanted Evil Sister and me to proofread it. A couple of copy edits aside, I thought it was pitch-perfect. Classic Good Sister.

Evil Sister said that GS was being "generous". It's an obituary for our mother. Of course she is. Does ES still harbor animus for Mom more than five years after she moved out of our hometown, during which time Mom lost most of her remaining marbles? Do I even want to know the answer to my previous question?

Sometimes I think that I, the transgender lesbian with a closet full of latex, leather, and Nice Boots, am the most normal member of the United Sister Front.

The Mint Machine is no more.

My insurer has declared my car a total loss. Given what various people involved told me weeks ago, I find this as surprising as the sunrise. I neither need nor want another one. Ex is copacetic, and if my son isn't, well, he shouldn't have wrecked the damn thing, now should he?

In the middle of typing this entry, I called the shop that has the car and released it to the insurer.

I think my ice scraper is still in the car. That's the only thing in there I might someday miss, and I sure won't miss it much with no car to scrape.

I could really use the cash right now because I have a mortgage these days, and boy howdy, do I have bills. I certainly wasn't keen on spending any more on that car or on insurance for it. And I wanted the Wendling to learn that life without a car can actually be worthwhile. You know, this could work out pretty well.