Saturday, April 22, 2017

A Side Job?

I have to laugh my ass off. Over the last week I'm getting a spate of text messages from phone numbers near Annapolis, Maryland asking if I'm available that night or day and what my fees are.  When I reply that they clearly have the wrong number because I'm old and gray and not a hooker the reactions range from sheepish to 'Who said anything about sex?' huffy.

Dude, your text message asked how much I charged to get together and 'party' - I seriously doubt you think you're reaching out to the local Tupperware dealer asking her to bring by her Harvest Tumblers and burping lid storage containers. If it's not Tupperware or Pampered Chef and you're asking me how much I charge to party my mind is always going to go horizontal fellowship.

The first time it happened I thought it was a misdial. Now it's pretty obvious someone has gotten my phone number out there. Mistake or on purpose it does not matter.  Joke's on them, in a week or less my mobile phone is going bye-bye when I jet off to Costa Rica.

Sitting here in my flannel nightgown, graying hair tumbling around my shoulders, wearing my schmexy sweater with the holes in it and fuzzy slippers just laughing. Hooking indeed. Maybe hooking a crochet project or two.

This was a laugh I needed. Today we took a lot of things to the dump, including our oh so comfortable but sprouting stuffing feather stuffed sofa and love seat. I have to get the landscaping done, some more of the furniture moved and clean out the garage after Jim leaves. I'm already pretty tired. I think I'm going to have to hire some help after he leaves. Today was getting so many things into the storage room over the garage. Looks like I'm playing real life Tetris.


Friday, April 21, 2017

Cicular Logic and Connections

My antique piano finally left the house this morning. It went to a very lovely young couple with young kids. As you remember I have agonized over the family piano and the ancient history connected to it, not wanting to let it go.

But once the young mother started telling me a story of her piano growing up, family dysfunction and how one of her family members sold it without telling her I realized how close to my own history that was. It feels very right that she is ending up with my piano, like some sort of karmic realignment, or what we used to call a 'God moment'. Something happening adjusting the world to rights again, redressing old wrongs. A very calm, perfect and circular moment, past and futures connected.

Very happy that my piano has landed with this family. Healing.

But then the rest of the day was a struggle. Ran out to order the carpet again since we had trouble last week with the original carpet company-- that went alright and allowed me to pick up some small supplies I need, like better shower curtain rods, some grout and grout sealant to do a little work in the baths.

The afternoon was taken up clearing out Laura's toys from the storage closets in her room. I had a melt down when I found the stuffed Meeko raccoon from the movie 'Pocahontas'. I bought it for Laura that first terrible day in the hospital when we almost lost her to ITP. She was four and it was her constant companion for about two or three years. Going to the doctor's office? Must have Meeko. Going to church? So is Meeko. Going to school or preschool? Meeko is coming along. Ready for dinner or bed? So is Meeko. I had to customize Meeko with a piece of iron on name tag on his butt with Laura's name on it and sew on a piece of velcro to connect him to her backpack.

One day he was put aside. It happened so suddenly. I don't quite know why. Laura must have outgrown her need to have him with her constantly and he's lived in that closet ever since. Seeing him again just opened the flood gates for me. I miss my kids being little and having them with me all the time.  Between the nice family taking the piano and seeing echos of the past I cannot help but think that when you're in the midst of it, the guts and blood of raising your children, it never dawns on you that some day they will flee the nest and you'll not have them around you every day. You miss them.

I know from some of the conversations I've had with my adult children that they're upset and unnerved by our remodel of the house and our moving away. Life is sure of one thing, change.

The SiL is busy fighting the change since her husband signed everything over to Jim. She's fighting as much of a losing battle as I am trying to hang onto my children. Eventually the waves sweep you far from the shore no matter how hard you fight them.


Roofs and Random Middle of the Night Thoughts

So here it is. 3 am and I cannot sleep. I've just taken one of my carefully horded emergency Ativan that I have for those panic attacks that accompany my worst asthma attacks. Once it kicks in I'm going to make another attempt to sleep. Too much on my mind and too much to accomplish when Jim flies out for Costa Rica on Monday. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed at the thought that I have to ride herd on the contractors for the remaining work, deal with the shippers, finish the packing and everything else.

Oh, I'll get everything done much faster once Jim leaves since I will not be dealing with him too. My father always called my husband The Nutty Professor since he's so educated and book smart, but does not have a clue about practicalities of things like painting the house or landscaping. Right now he and I are sort of tripping over each other and sometimes at cross purposes, like when he tried to haul the three boxes of supplies for our home in Costa Rica I packed that are clearly marked 'Living Room Box 1', 'Kitchen Box 2' and 'Kitchen Box 3' out to the car for a trip to Goodwill. I caught him in time to stop him from giving away my breadmachine and other small appliances and the box holding the television remotes and assorted lamps. We need those.

Today was roofing day. Six Mexicans from the roofing company with nail guns and shingles first tearing off the old roof and scrambling at a furious pace to put the new one on before the rains came. It's gorgeous. Pictures tomorrow when the rains stop. The roof is the same shades of blue as the siding and the house shutters and doors.

It gave me another good opportunity to practice my bastard pigeon Spanish again since most of the crew didn't speak English. I'm sure I mangled their language terribly, but I'm trying to make my brain switch from my default foreign language. Usually what happens is someone will speak to me in Spanish and my brain tries to make me reply in German.

Watch those guys today I have to wonder how all these ICE round ups are going to affect not just the big farms and commercial agricultural enterprises, but it's also going to affect the construction industry. Here many of the construction crews are staffed with these guys, hard working and family oriented. Going to make not only the price of food go up, but it could also put a big hurting on the housing and home improvement industry.

Just setting aside the issue of if they are here legally or illegally I have to say in my observation that they are some of the hardest working folks I've ever seen, taking a lot of jobs that no one here seems to want. Our nation is going to have a very hard time functioning if we remove them all. Very short sided of Trump and sort of hypocritical since his businesses employ a lot of Hispanics from other countries in their construction and the maintenance of his golf courses. His vineyard here in Virginia recently asked the Dept. of Labor for permission to import a number of foreign workers to take care of the grapevines.

I'm just not sure how you can employ the labor of a people and still speak in rhetoric against them while deporting them. Confusing. Or maybe that silly Ativan is finally kicking in. Goodnight.

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

If It's Not One Thing, It's Your In-Laws

So while we're dealing with the move and the remodel of our home another looming crisis has been starting to boil. My Maw in Law's investment accounts.

The brother in law hired a broker three years ago to handle all the Maw in Law's money, and it is a substantial sum, into seven figures. The way it was supposed to be set up was that my husband and his brother were both holders of the power of attorney, supposed to make decisions on investments, meet with the broker, and just generally protect the Maw in Law's life savings.

That's not quite how it worked out. My husband was given the run-around, not allowed to see statements and the broker would not talk to him.

Before moving the money to this broker it was set up in both brothers names somewhere else. Why and how this went from the two of them to only his brother no one seems to know, or will admit to.

Jim's getting understandably nervous about this in light of his relocation next week to Costa Rica and he's been pressing his brother to move the entire portfolio to the same financial investment firm we use, into safer funds and investments and set up again in both names, both brothers having equal access and say in the funds.

This is everything my Maw in Law and later Paw in Law worked hard and saved over the years. Literally their life savings. It's important that it be maintained for her benefit more than anyone else. She has plenty of income to cover her living expenses, so there's no need to touch this money unless something dire happens, which is unlikely. But it's hers, for her use. She's 94 now, living in an assisted living facility and has no interest in handling her investments.

Jim started to worry about the money after he found out back in early January that the broker is taking high fees out of the portfolio to manage it and that the broker is a raving lunatic Trump backer that lectures others about the wonder of Trump. One of her stocks earned about 20% points last year and she only got 8% after the brokers fees. Jim and his brother agreed that the money needs to be moved asap away from the Trumplestillskin broker, yet his brother has taken no action while Jim has begged, pleaded and cajoled.

Why? I think it's the fault of my hateful new sister in law, who I've now dubbed a quite nasty name that combines a rude word for vagina and a Japanese monster's name. Too vulgar for here. Yeah, the same woman that created the whole Christmas from Hell scenario out of the blue back in December of 2015. 

Recently Jim's been messaging, emailing and calling his brother to try and find out if the money has been moved yet, only to be ignored or told that Bro in Law would do it next week. Well, the ultimate 'next week' is here and we discovered that the move is finally in progress.

Keep in mind that the Bro in Law moved his own personal money immediately after telling Jim about the crazy of the broker and the high fees. His mother's life savings? Hmmm, he's been in something less of a hurry. Here we are nearly 4 months after he moved his and 5 months after he told Jim that the broker was up to no good.

Several days ago Jim asked about a telephone meeting with the new investment firm, the same one we are using and the Bro in Law is using. He was told that TwatZilla and the Bro in Law had a phone conference scheduled for Tuesday afternoon. Jim told them he wanted to be part of that and BiL reluctantly agreed. Time set up, and it was a go.

But this left us with questions in the meantime, like if this involved the Maw in Law's money then what was the new SiL doing in the decision-making loop at all? I'm not involved, but I don't want to be involved because I recognize this really just needs to be between Jim and the BiL since it involves their mother. I would not expect Jim to have any role in making decisions about my mother's money.

I had a very bad feeling about this telephone conference, knowing that if my therapist's ideas of what's wrong with my SiL were anywhere near right then it was going to morph into a goat rodeo quickly. It did.

Jim got on the phone with the new investment banker and lo and behold the BiL was 'too busy' in a meeting to come to the phone, which meant that it was Jim and the SiL only in the meeting. She proceeded to fight with Jim on the phone, told him she did not care what he thought and that they were going to do the investments the way she thought they should done. She accused Jim of being a liar, claiming he had full power of attorney to see the investment information all along. She also informed Jim that my Maw in Law's money was 'small potatoes' and said a number of horrible things when Jim asked to see beginning balances from three years ago. It went poorly.

I did not participate, but I was in the next room doing another massive Ebay auction of possessions while this was going on, and I clearly heard what was going on via speaker phone. Again, what they do with the Maw in Law's money is not my business. I really don't want to know, but could not help hearing.

Jim was upset afterward, and we went to have a picnic in the park, walk around the park and feed the ducks because it had been a busy and stressful day even before the phone conference. I reiterated yet again what form of mental illness I believe that the SiL suffers from, and now Jim sees it too. She kept texting Jim while we were at the park, asking him why he wasn't responding to emails.

We got home last night at sunset to a set of nasty, demeaning, vituperative emails to my husband, you know the kind, the ones with the CAPITALS and bolded and underlined words and italics sprinkled in for ranty emphasis. She went as far as to claim yet again that the Maw in Law's investment were 'Chicken Feed' and how INSULTED she is by the way my husband spoke to her.

Listen, lady! I heard the entire conversation and the only one raising their voice, using disrespectful words, being demeaning and insulting was the SiL. She was so incensed in these emails that when she shared the starting figure of the transferred investment she ran it as one long number with no commas or periods.

Since Jim is now viewing her the same way that myself and my therapist do he took my advice and answered her arias of irritation and paranoia with the simple phrase 'Thanks for the information.' That's it, short and sweet.

Jim barely slept last night after worrying about this most of the night and today he called up his brother, read portions of those poison pen emails to the BiL, pointed out that TwatZilla should not have any say in the investments of their mother, that I don't mettle like that and that the kids and I want nothing to do with either of them we're so insulted still by the way they behaved Christmas of 2015.

Good for you, baby! Standing up to BiL like that. The upshot is that the primary person who will be handling all the investments now will be Jim. BiL is signing it all over to him after some arguing and back and forth between the two brothers. Between the two brothers is how all this needs to be, not me, not her.

I'm betting that TwatZilla is having a tantrum and torturing the BiL right now. Mmmmuhahaha!

TwatZilla. I like that name!

What I've learned through this long experience dealing with those outlaw in-laws. Red flags to watch out for in those that are determined to dominate and control the elderly.

  • Someone that denies allowing the elderly their own money to spend is up to no good.
  • If you ask someone a direct question and they either change the subject, act like you are attacking them when asking for a hard and fast number, or attack you are hiding something.
  • People that seek to control every aspect of someone's lifes is up to no good.
  • If they cannot get along with their own children (all of them), leave an ex spouse destitute and broken and lie to try and get what they want you need to get away from them.
  • Someone eager to spend an elderly person's money on stupid things while telling that elderly person that they cannot afford a new computer or hearing aids is up to no good.
  • If every time you talk to that person they have a huge pile of negative stories about that elderly person, yet every time you talk to that elderly person they seem exactly the opposite of what was said it's just another form of controlling, gas lighting and abuse.
  • If you oppose someone with certain types of mental problems even in the mildest and most polite ways and they always blow up and then attempt to invent stories about you then you should likely never involve them in your life.
  • If someone is constantly attempting to seek praise, is upset that no one thanks them in a way that they think they should be thanks you need to run away from them.
  • If someone always overreacts massively to the slightest thing it's them that have the issues.
I could continue on all night, but I don't have enough time. There are so many red flags in my SiL's behavior that are so troubling in retrospect that I do not feel safe around her. I wish we could convince the Maw in Law to move in with us because I'm afraid for her having this angry and frustrated woman seeing to her needs.

Monday, April 17, 2017

Strange Lawn Ornamentation

Last night shortly after I wrote yesterday's blog post Jim got a Facetime phone call from Mr. Steak about the cats. He showed a very confused looking Kiki looking around the basement. Once Jim started talking to Kiki I sort of melted down and started crying again. Poor Kiki does not understand why he's so far from home. It's breaking my heart. No sign of Mary or Pedro.

So now we have a roll off dumpster on our front lawn. It's for the kitchen remodel, some of the other work, the rest of the roofing job and assorted stuff coming out of the house. It was just getting too much to make the long run to the dump every day.

It looks incongruous sitting among the daffodils and tulips.

I feel like I've spent today either on the phone or running errands. Piano movers scheduling coming to take the piano away to its new home. Faxing documents here and there. Taking books around to various places that need them. Boxing up most of our children's childhood possessions to store in the attic. Making arrangements with a company to forward our mail and the ever present cleaning, boxing and sorting to ready for the painters at the end of the week.

One of the big tasks of today was doing what I used to term 'Mount Laundry'. When my son was here yesterday he cleaned out his closet and dresser. Both were stuffed with clothing from high school and college. The high school clothes way too big now and the ones he wore in college too small. Most everything was in good shape so I spent the day washing, folding and packing into crates to go to the second hand place.

Most people don't shrink after high school. My son did. He was always plump, but decided senior year to work out and eat right. Lucky thing dropped so much weight over the course of a summer, leading to a new wardrobe. Since then he's kept a lot of the weight off, but has gone up a size. If you're local be on the lookout for an expensive ski jacket, dress slacks and a pile of trendy tees and hipster button up shirts coming to a thrift store near you.

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Contractors, Creepy Steaks, Tears, Skin Flakes and Extreme Loss

Today was bang up in some not so good ways and better ways. Definitely the strangest Easter we've had, well, maybe the year I was still in the hospital after a total hysterectomy on Easter might have been odder, but not by much.

Confirmation calls from the roofer, the plumbers and kitchen guys. Copper sink, copper faucet set and solid kitchen countertop in creams, greys and coppers in and ready to be installed after they rip out the old near the end of next week. Roofer dropping off dumpster and all the shingles in the front yard first thing in the morning. Big progress. Almost ready for the painters.

That kitchen is going to be so beautiful when they finish. I cannot wait.

We still have to touch base with the painters and scheduling folks at the carpet places. After some scheduling snafus, a disappearing roofer and the old bait and switch with the first carpeting company we're just about swinging into high gear for the final push on the remodel. I'm considering getting some small work down on the master bath, new faucets and a shower glass door installs, plus I'm considering getting the ac guy to come out and install a digital thermostat.

Dealing with estimates, chasing down the copper sink and bait and switching flooring issues took up most of the week leading to this Easter weekend.

This morning started badly when I was awakened by Jim and Mr. Steak having problems getting our kitty Mary into the crate. Mr. Steak was trying to leave with our cats since he's the only person that wanted to foster our cats who actually would not be put out by it until we get settled enough in Costa Rica to fly them in. Mary bloodied Mr. Steak up pretty badly and did the same with Jim.

I was almost laughing over that because on Friday morn when I was crating Kiki for his vet visit and shot update Mr. Steak told me I had no idea how to properly crate a cat.

Bullshit! I got all three including an extremely scared Pedro crated in less than five minutes.

I cried pretty hard as they left, when I stuck my head into his car to say goodbye I got three different kitty voices begging me to not do this. I felt so damn guilty and have been crying much of the day. It hits me in waves.

After a few hours on the road Mr. Steak called and said everyone was fine but he'd been thinking. He was not going to foster our guys and put them on a plane in a month. He says he's going to KEEP them now. I went nuclear and his sudden decision has just about killed me. I had already agreed to leave 17 year old arthritic Mary with him because she likely would not do well with the plane flight and the move. But the agreement was that he was going to put Kiki and Pedro on the plane to us. Looks likely now that I will have to fly into Detroit, pick up the cats and wrangle them back to Costa Rica.

Losing the cats, even temporarily, is just breaking my heart in the worst way. I feel so guilty. Last night when I was hugging and cuddling Pedro at bedtime I was begging him to forgive me and I even started trying to bargain with God, a God I am no longer sure exists or cares if he does exist. Another unanswered prayer and now the possibility that I cannot get my two younger guys back.

I spent yesterday afternoon when he was out and most of the morning scrubbing the house after Mr. Steak left. The bedroom he used was liberally sprinkled with lots of skin flakes from his diseased legs and feet. Vacuumed the room repeatedly. After talking to him and asking a nurse friend I have to think that he has poor circulation in his feet and legs because he's never taken decent care of his diabetes. His legs look scalded and, along with his feet, are swollen up to twice their size. I don't think he's long for this world if he does not get his circulation issues, heart issues and blood sugars under control. I would not be surprised if they don't end up amputating his feet.

So what does Mr. Steak claim is wrong with his feet and legs? He says it is something to do with his car accident last year and that he's having circulation issues. Nice try. I saw his metformin bottle. He's another poorly controlled diabetic who refuses to monitor daily blood sugars with a meter.

Even knowing he cannot help shedding all that shredding skin does not make it any less gross to clean it up. I would not even use the bathroom he used, scrubbing it up shiny today along with washing and bleaching all the bedding he used. It too was a sea of skin flakes.

I'm very paranoid of catching something due to his illnesses. I'm on immunio suppression meds for the asthma. Getting over almost a year of MRSA outbreaks was hard enough. I don't want to catch any possible virus or bacteria that's lurking on those diseased legs. Hence all the sanitizing.

Our kids showed up right after church and I cooked a simple dinner we had in between both of them cleaning out their closets and packing away their things. I cannot handle packing up their things and my own without their help.

I was glad because it was a good distraction from finding out Mr. Creepy Steak wasn't going to put Pedro and Kiki on the plane to us. I stopped crying for awhile.

For the first time I got the sense that our young adult children have finally made peace with our decision to go and are supportive. Their father and I reminded them that they will always have a home with us where ever we go. With the dire warnings of war this might be ever more important. We told both of them not to screw around if things got bad in the States, but to gather their sig-os and come down to Costa Rica with us.

It sure did not feel like Easter. Particularly when my daughter and I ran out to Walmart for more cardboard boxes for packing and ended up buying a pile of things. I'm getting all the personal care stuff that will be hard to score in Costa Rica.

Going to bed in a few since I have slept very little in the past two nights. It will be the first night sleeping without Pedro cuddling me most of the night in six years.


Saturday, April 15, 2017

Kill It With Fire and Torment

So my husband's friend that invited himself over for Easter weekend after we'd gotten rid of all our beds, sheets and covers is here and I'm seriously tempted to kill him.

I'm torn between utter annoyance with him and pity, at least until today. So far today I have been the recipient of 4 nasty comments about oral sex and at least a half dozen comments about the nudity during Mardi Gras in my home town. All whenever my husband is out of the room of course.

Before Jim took him off to tour Monticello this afternoon we had a hasty conversation where I was hissing under my breath to Jim about this commentary and threatening bloodshed if he does not deal with this dirty-mouthed and minded 300 pound guy with swollen feet who has been picking his skin off his peeling shins and discarding it on the coffee table. Yes, I did also insist Jim remove the gross pile of skin so I could sanitize the coffee table.

I see why he's unmarried with no girlfriend.

I see why he has no real friends where he lives.

I've turned a deaf ear and refused to even acknowledge his crude remarks. Pretending I did not hear them.

I'm so glad I blocked him on Facebook years ago for other inappropriate remarks.

He's a Trump fan with about the same reasoning ability and intellect of the bottom third of the Trumpen-Lumpens. I've been biting my tongue for two days now.

It wasn't enough that he had to show up stalker-like at 5:30 am sitting in his car just outside our house on Friday morning.

Maybe I'm just still super cranky from the lack of sleep at the UVA Sleep Lab last night. I learned something from the lab, always, and I mean ALWAYS, check out the sleep lab and ask to see the accommodations before you book. Eighteen years ago at my first sleep lab I went to UVA when the sleep lab consisted of a small dept of four glass-fronted rooms with no restrooms that would have been appropriate in an old Soviet gulag. Five years ago I went for a sleep lab here locally and it was like staying in a luxury hotel, plush, comfortable, catering to every need you could have with a shower attached to each room --- so useful the next morning when you're trying to wash away the pounds of goop they attach the monitors to your scalp with. Last night was a huge left down after five years ago. It's better than their original lab, but not by much. Noisy, not conductive to sleeping at all. I woke up so many times it was pathetic. There was a shower, but the pressure and temps of the water didn't do much to remove the goop. I just came back from buying a scalp brush and a big bottle of Redken Remove to get this rapidly hardening crap out of my hair.

I did find out one good thing. My weight loss was enough that my apnea is no longer bad enough to need treatment. I am going from a 19 setting to no machine. Just like getting off the blood pressure meds and Metformin. I'm much better.

Too bad my mood is still homicidal towards McCreepy. This afternoon he started leaving me alone when I put on the soundtrack to 'Hedwig and the Angry Inch' and started singing this ditty while cleaning the kitchen.


Guess I'll need to recite the Communist Manifesto and other dire anti-Trump things to get through the night without committing murder. Thankfully he is leaving in the morning. I cannot WAIT to discuss in lurid detail to my husband all the dirty remarks after Mr. Steak leaves.

Monday, April 10, 2017

Broken Toes, Twisted Knees and Too Much Drama!

Been another crazy week in the build up to the move. I'm trying to make sure our wills are updated and all three of the kids know where all the keys and documents are so I was in town this weekend meeting with them to accomplish this.

Before that I had two different appointments at UVA. First with my endocrinologist. Numbers so good over the last five months that I'm going to be weaning off metformin once I get to Costa Rica. As long as the numbers stay good. If not I have to find a primary care down there that will continue to fill the metformin. But I'm going to try to get off and control the numbers by what I eat.

Had the first appointment with the sleep lab folks and I'll be going inpatient on Friday night for another sleep lab. It's been five years since I was checked and my VPAP is not working right. Cannot wait.

Part of the reason I'm looking forward to Friday night in the hospital is that one of Jim's friends, Mr. Creep, nicknamed after a steak, will be spending the night at our house. Yes, he invited himself over for Easter weekend after the clusterfuck of Saturday morning.

Saturday morn, bright and early, Jim tells me that Mr. Steak started spamming him porn photos again and he does not know what to do. I told Jim he needs to tell Mr. Steak a) that is not acceptable and b) block him on social media. He does, but then Mr. Steak calls, whining and crying he has no one for the holidays and offering to foster our three cats until we get settled. He's claiming he'll treasure them, along with his three cats and he'll put them on the airplane to us as soon as we have an apartment rented.

I hate this guy! Hate, hate, H-A-T-E him. So much so that I had trouble keeping my hateful fucking mouth shut when he visited D.C. in February and we went to dinner with him. Mr. Steak is creepy trouble. So..... going for tests in the hospital for the majority of the time he's going to be here is a win-win. He'll be leaving with the cat carriers not long after I get back.

When I found out he was coming this weekend I wasn't pleased at all, even if I do appreciate his offer to foster the cats. I had two friends locally who'd offered, but I know there are cat-allergic people in both of their households so it wasn't an ideal situation. The local Siamese cat rescue was refusing to help me find a foster for Pedro and I cannot simply fly them with us to Costa Rica right away because we'll be living as a guest in a local's home for a month or so that does not allow pets.

The problematic nature of Mr. Steak visiting is that all the beds with the exception of the one Jim and I sleep in have long since gone off to the second hand shop and the antique store. All the various sized sheets gone to Goodwill and the bedrooms are stripped. We had to scramble to borrow a rollaway bed and sheets from friends.

We're still moving things in and out, but I came damn near close to killing Jim yesterday. We were struggling with the heavy oak hutch top half of our dresser, moving it downstairs to take away. I kept telling Jim he was moving way too fast down the stairs on his end and that I couldn't get a good grip on my end due to the glass doors. He ignored me, kept moving fast, I lost my grip and down it slammed, like a huge oak log barrelling down the stairs, slamming into him and knocking his 260 pounds of tall self down the stairs and onto the floor before landing on top his his leg. His knee is messed up now.

Today was my turn for stupid injuries. We were wrestling the bottom part of the dresser down the same staircase going slower this time when Jim yanked it down a few steps and it landed on my big toe. Gonna lose the nail on my right big toe. Broken. Had to yank it back into pointing the right way, taped it and soldiered on before tripping over the snow shovels in the storage room and falling down. I look like I've been beaten, goose egged head, bruised jaw from chin to jaw joint, twisted knee and hurt back.

I am beginning to think that Jim has some form of ADD watching how he packs things or moves them around plus his still going back and forth and sideways with the contractors. The weirdest thing has happened with the roofing contractor - agreed to the price and the dude is nowhere to be seen, not asking emails or phone calls, office shut down, etc. So it's back to the drawing board again for picking a roofing company. So so weird!