Not much

The weather is slowly changing.  The house is chilly now, but I do not want to turn on the heater just yet, or the fireplace.  I haven't gotten my flannels down, just wearing extra layers and warm socks.  Using a heavier blanket, but the flannel sheets are still up in the top of the linen closet. 

I've been trying to paint.  I get a bit done, but then I am just so tired I quit.  This is pretty much how every project goes.  I want to do things, but I am simply too far down to be effective.  My hands ache, I cannot concentrate.  Time for my annual exam, make sure there isn't a physical reason adding to the bleak way I have been feeling.

This is not true depression, I think up art ideas, and make plans, and even get my work areas tidied up.  Beginning is problematic, as it carrying through.  Autumn means time for a silk flower swap, and Desi got the totes into the house for me.  I even opened one up this morning.  All I have to do is get the step stool out of the hall closet, take down the summer flowers and put up the fall ones.  About an hour is all it takes.  I want to do it.  I just don't. 

But hey, I did tidy and arrange the charging station, and took the dead tablets off the kitchen counter where they sat for a year.  Got the sink sparkling white, well, as much as the old porcelain does now.  I have a bunch of stuff to go downstairs, but I did get the counter tidied.  I do need to scrub it better.  Move the strands of dead battery lights I set down before Burning Man.  I did clean up the two things I want to take to Iconoclad, just have to carry them down and put them in the box.  Steam and mop the kitchen floor.  Get my burner basket clean.  So many tiny chores, I can make lists all day, and have Alexa remind me, but each task feels insurmountable. 

And then there's the weeks where I don't even watch Netflix, or Amazon Prime, or CBS, or my recordings on Xfinity.  I watch Andy Griffith or South Park reruns.  It's mindless and comforting in some ways.  Just let go and play solitaire with familiar voices in the background.

I miss me.

Into Year Two

The Year of Firsts is being me now, the year of mourning what was lost.  I lost so much more than MyLarry, I lost the future we had planned, I lost my identity as Mrs. Clayton, I lost being a housewife and intimate partner, I lost friends, I lost freedom and mobility. 

As I understand it, the second year is the year of hard hitting reality.  The truth is, while I can try to hire help, some "professionals" are better than others.  The latests debacle with the sprinklers shows that.  The basement did get water, I have probably lost the Persian carpet.  The yard kid has stopped showing up, I will need another lawn care person.  And until the e-bikes are moved, my backyard cannot be mowed.  I need to clean the toolboxes myself.  I need to get the bedding done and up myself.  The carpets are filthy, and if I do not clean them myself, they will not be done. If Lolo pees on something, I get to clean it.  The tub looks like someone murdered a grease monkey in there.  It goes on and on. I can ask Desi to help with many things, but she cannot carry the load.  She already does so very much, and I am so very grateful.  The pretty promises of friends were well intentioned, but have all proven empty. 

I have to maintain the house.  There is no question of moving at this point.  I am exhausted and afraid. 

Larry didn't just have boundless energy and the ability to push through and the desire to get things done, he also kept me energized.  Alone, I am so much less than who I was as a half of an outstanding partnership.  

The Temple

Good.  BUrning Man without Larry is hard and it sucked as much as it was wonderful.  Apparently, if I am hypnotized, and told I am in a stripper contest, I begin taking off my clothing....

Burning Man, the Temple and a week before Year One is over.

I don't know what to say.  It is all so much.  I'm okay, but I am tired and not getting stuff done.  Still, it will all be okay in the long run.  

Deep adulting.

I had a good long talk with my nephew about the last time his sister came to visit me.  It had been a disaster of a visit, and upset me a great deal.  She is manipulative, and literally insane, which makes her delusional, and barely functional as a free-range adult.  As I learn more about her current family dynamics, I am actually a little afraid of her.  Why?  She is trying to get her mother declared incompetent so she can be her guardian.  That means getting at what little money the woman has.  I thought this through, I have money, not huge amounts. but enough to be attractive.  I have a house.  My niece is money hungry, she always has wild plans to become rich.  Lawsuits which never happen, jobs she can never land, and yes, getting money from family.  She wants my dad's military records to file a downwinder suit.  It is not entirely unreasonable for me to be concerned that she may try to hatch a plan to get at my estate, such as it is.  Still, I'm worth a quarter mil easy, IF it could all be accessed at one time.  It cannot.  That's enough for her to sniff around though, and for me to get serious about not just my will, but sorting out my life right now.

My closest living relative is my brother, followed by a plethora of nieces and nephews. (The nice in question is not the daughter of this brother, but of one of my brothers who died).  The nephew I trust the most, and who is my direct heir, lives across the country.  I have two dear friends who are like my kids, and who do more for me than any of my relatives.  That makes me a little concerned that they have no say in my care or upholding my wishes medically.  Time for that living will I never thought I needed when Larry was alive.

I have always known I am a target given my age and situation.  The term "vulnerable adult" meant little to me other than an abstract concept. However, I forgot to take my medication yesterday and woke up with a headache today, a minor thing, but ... and here is the but ... what if it were not?  The realization that I had better be damned sure that the people I want deciding my fate had better have legal documents to back it up hit me hard.  My niece would do worse than find a nursing home for me, she'd take the house and put me on the street if given the opportunity. She called the cops on her own mother once, trying to claim domestic abuse.  I would be foolish to even let the shadow of that become a possibility. 

Where is the line between paranoia and legitimate concerns for my future?  

Adulting never ends

I went to register the truck and trailer yesterday.  Larry always handled it, so I had a pretty steep learning curve, and a few tears.  Desi took me to Jiffy Lube for the truck's emissions inspection, easy enough.  Took a few days for me to get the oomph to go to the county assessor and the DMV. Decided to time it so I could go to Pig and A Jelly Jar on $5 chicken and waffle day.  Turns out I couldn't do the trailer, as the DMV doesn't send a registration card for utility trailers.  The lady at DMV gave me a paper I can take to the county for my veteran's exemption.  I can do that after Burning Man.  We had a short chat about husbands and cremation insurance.  She was very kind.

Burning Man.  My spark is lacking, I honestly do not want to go.  I feel obligated, to take Larry's ashes and kilt to the Temple, and to hug all the people who want to see me.  Ugh.  I will try to be the tough old bird, and not take it out on my campmates.  They can't help it they are not Larry.  Crying Man, here I come.

All of it, and none at all

I am feeling the rage today.  General free floating anger.  Feels like PMS if I still had such a thing.  Angry with myself,my decisions, angry Larry is gone, angry my neighbors on one side have made landscaping decisions they can't control, angry with the horrible dog on the other side, angry at the yellowjackets, angry I cannot work in my yard without anguish.  Angry I don't know how ot prep for Burning Man.  Angry my carpets are so nasty.  Angry I am still paralyzed.  Angry I am fat and hungry.  With so much rage, it is probably just me in a mood. 

My best guess is I am missing the lovely lazy Sundays mornings Larry and I used to share.