Ruminations

It's far to early in the morning, I woke up almost an hour ago, and I can't get back to sleep. I've put by briefcase (OK, backpack) together for work, but I don't have to leave for another 3 hours or so. And you can only read the newspaper so many times, can't you?

I don't think that this has anything to do with my brother; it's just that bit of insomnia I get sometimes. I don't like sleeping pills, and I can't drink warm milk (I hate milk), so I just deal with it. I'll sleep well tomorrow, if past patterns mean anything.

So now I'm on the computer, updating my comments and doing a little bit of blogging. Susan and I went out to see "The Mist" on Sunday, and man, that was one freaky movie. Almost as good as the story. I won't give a spoiler, but the ending was pretty horrific, even though you could see it coming from a mile away.

I think I'll go make pancakes. Y'all have probably noticed this, but a lot of my blog features whatever I'm cooking. I like to cook. And Susan likes to eat what I cook. If we're still slim at 35, I'll be shocked.

Breathing Again

Susan told me that we're going out for dinner tonight. No ifs, ands, or buts about it, she said, we're going out.

I think she's trying to get me to feel less miserable, and I appreciate it, but it's freezing-ass cold out, and they're expecting snow for the weekend. I'd rather stay in. If I have to go out, I'm just gonna stock up on hot chocolate, and maybe a little Bailey's to go with it, and perhaps a few good salmon fillets, and that's it. It's winter, and we'll spend the nights in. Besides, I really don't feel like going out lately.... Anyway, we've got a good apartment for getting cozy on a cold night. It's an older building, with steam heat, and did I ever mention that it has a fireplace?

She and I will have to discuss 'stay in' versus 'go out,' preferably in front of the fireplace, with mugs of hot chocolate, while the honey-poached salmon is cooking.

I took the day off of work today, and tomorrow too, so I could finish clearing out my brother's stuff over at my sister's place. His old basement room looks bland now, with no personality left to it. I guess it goes back to being the guest room.

And remember that I said he left behind some credit card bills? Well, Visa's being a dick about it, and we have to pay up. My sister, my parents, and I are just splitting it up and covering it. It's easier than arguing with them. My share comes to $417.

I really hate credit cards. When they were invented, in the 1950s, they must have had a sort of cachet: "I don't have the money now, but these people have it for me!" Nowadays, the requirements to get a credit card have been reduced down to pretty much just a pulse. Even a chronically semi-employed, semi-homeless drudge like my brother had a $1200 credit account, and he was even over the limit on it!

Well, I'm don't feel like heading off on a rant right now, that's probably related to why I don't feel like going out tonight, too, so I'll just get the salmon started. It'll help convince Susan to stay in.

G'night!

Cleaning Up

Yesterday, I went over to my sister's place, and the two of us cleaned out my brother's stuff. The clothing went to a thrift store, the 50 bucks in cash and change went to a food bank, and everything else had to be sorted and distributed. It was a sad task.

For the few years, since his divorce, he'd been living in our sister's basement, and when you live somewhere for a few years, you tend to accumulate stuff. My brother was no exception. And, of course, there was all of his stuff from before his life turned to crap.

Some of the mementos we set aside for his daughter. She's a bit angry right now, and I don't know if she'll ever want them, but when she gets older, I think she'll appreciate it. This pile includes things like his old signet ring, his wedding ring that I can't believe he kept, his high school and college diplomas, his old trumpet, various keepsakes and souvenirs he'd collected over the years, and a small album of photos of Dana, as a baby, with my brother, or as she went through school. He was a non-custodial parent, which probably doesn't sound as bad it must have been, but he kept those pictures, and he kept them updated. We kept the album for her, too.

My sister took a couple of his old sweatshirts. I took some books and a chess set. There really wasn't much else. Most of the books went to a used book store, and after that we just had to clean up the mess, wash the dirty laundry, throw away the junk mail, and sort out the bills.

Some of those, we'll be able to pay from what's left of his bank account: cell phone and his share of my sister's utilities. The credit card bills ($1200! Who the f*** gave that nimrod $1200 worth of credit cards!) I'm not sure what we'll do with. I guess we'll contact the card issuers, and let them know that the debtor is deceased, with no estate. A bad write-off, I guess.

I wonder if he hoped that his life would be worth more than that?

Anyway, it's very late on Sunday night, or very early on Monday morning, depending on your point of view, and I have to go to work in the morning. Susan's awake, and she's calling me. She's been a rock through all of this, and really helped me, and my sister, and our parents to get through it. She took the calls from the police, and drove us to the county morgue to "identify the body," and them got my brother's car out of impound and contacted a funeral home. My mom wants me to marry her.

I'm gonna go now. I'll blog more later.