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5:41 p.m. - August 28, 2003
Despite it all, a great day
One final addendum to the IRS butt-fuck: In the haze of I'm poor, I'm poor financial disquietude and Microsoft Money vs. Quicken budgeting to stretch that final penny and a decision to raise rents on my poorer-than-I tenants, I ran out of ink for my favorite pen and this, this is the straw that has blinded me, nevermind overused cliches about camels (redundancy, but when have I ever been eloquent?), because a new pen is not provided for and the reality of my current financial situation has hit home: I cannot buy office supplies. True, while I have everything I need in sufficient quantity to last for quite some time (68 pens, half blue, half black - no green [foresight, Jason, foresight]; 4 color, 4 black ink cartridges for the printer; two toner cartridges for the laser [6,000 pages each], legions of paper clips/bunchers/binder clips and anything else I need), I see hardship because I cannot indulge in frivolities. Lorster, if you still read my traudrama, perhaps you can sympathize. For the rest of you, it's no more lattes or packs-a-day, no more eating out, no more steaks, no more nights guaranteed free from eating cat food.

Merely happenstance or a final thrust? You decide.

I'm moving on and will leave this behind once my savings rebounds. Ah, I realize I find too much security in greenbacks and interest.

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This afternoon I worked at the Drop-Your-Aged-And-Infirm-Parents-Here-$4,500-Per-Month-Retirement-Chateau and I love the drive once a month, anticipating the goings-on. There's always something to make me laugh and without fail, I'm in a good mood afterwards. I love the little old ladies who request mashed potatoes not the crud out of a box and when the director denies dehydrated potatoes, the complainant says she cooked potatoes every day for 49 years and trust her, she knows real from fake. I love the lady who tells everybody to shut up because she prefers to hear from one ear and not in stereo. The man who inquires into ribs, Southern style, and I wonder how he eats them given his toothless state. And above all I love the deaf residents and how my favorite grips my hand with that resilience that must originate with seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and signs, Can you sit for a while? and I always do, out in the garden and I talk to her about random things and despite being 91 years old, she's sharp and sweet. I ask her questions simply to hear her stories of life long ago, of living in Washington State and taking the train to school in St. Louis, visiting family once a year, of having 13 children - all deaf - and watching her beautiful old ASL, her delight when I use some of my own mossback signs. These are things to be imprinted and remembered, as is the drive home through the valley: Remember the antique sign for picnic, for just-in-case, for cherish, for a bit of a slow-down amid the frenetic.

Yes, a very good afternoon.

 

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