So why aren't I asleep for crying out loud?
Last night I was so tired I fell asleep on the bed with my clothes on, woke up at 1 a.m., had a shower and went back to bed. I didn't even hear the rain belting down.
Tuesday, it was back to the solicitor's with more papers, then to Southland and home.
Wednesday, and I was re-arranging a funeral. I hadn't looked at the papers since 2006 so I thought I'd better up-date for mother (or me whoever goes first) because it's going to be paid out of the house settlement regardless of what stupid sister says. I say it's a debt and it gets paid. Well that ended up fun when the lass found out that my ex had worked for them. Much salacious gossip was exchanged and bitchiness abounded. Then I went back to unpacking boxes.
I don't know which is worse, packing up at mum's, unpacking here or re-packing for the op-shop.
I'm being ruthless and with my own things as well. Still haven't got as far as the books or videos or packed the glass cabinet in the kitchen.
Thursday, shocked to find no knickers in the drawer. Memo to self, do some washing and soon.
I had to open the emergency cottontails now I have to buy another emergency pack. I waited for an hour for a taxi, ringing twice which uses up my mobile credits and makes me homicidal especially when driver is a complete moron. He has a GPS and still can't find his way out of my street to Warrigal Road. Take papers to solicitor, get papers from solicitor. Pick up parrot seed ring for mother's bloody greedy parrots. Pick up stuff from pharmacist because stupid sister doesn't want mum ordering through the home in case she starts on a spending rampage. It's her money, you stupid tart. Stagger into nursing home just as the chef wanders past with sausages in onion gravy, waves it under my nose and asks would I like some lunch. It was divine and I faithfully promise to become vegetarian again tomorrow and eat crappy tofu. I also paid up for Sunday lunch.
Walk back through Mentone, gasping, catch bus to Southland to do the banking and say sod it to taking a bus home, deciding on taxi because my feet were starting to hurt up to my knees. I got home just in time for the thunderstorm which drenched me through to my cottontails. One of life's tortures is getting a pair of soaking wet knickers off a lardarse as large as mine. Not to mention the rain hits my hair and 'Sideshow Bob' suddenly appears. Estate agent turns up to collect papers and tells me about all the interest in the house and I'm mentally yelling "SHOW ME THE MONEY" but not before Christmas. She looks around and says that we've moved a lot from the house, I tell her this is just from the hallway.
Sister rings, she's taken down all the paintings, don't ask me why. She also wants to know exactly what times are people coming through the house so she can tell the BrickOutHouse not to be home. I would tell him but some stupid tart told me to cut off the phone. Sister is becoming a pain in the arse.
In fact there have been so many annoying people running through my life this week that it's a good thing I can't buy semi-automatics over the internet.