Dentist and walking, feet hurt.
Two phone calls before I left so panic, panic in case I'm late so leave mobile home and spare cash.
Lovely dentist repairs filling with two pins which I think are jammed in my jaw.
The bill gives me another panic attack but she deducted the last filling amount and brings it down to below panic level.
I use mother's bank account to pay for it.
Cross the road to catch bus and pick up my glasses which they couldn't fix so have glued them so I can use them for special occasions. (I've since wrapped fine gold wire around the arm and araldyted it)
Miss bus by bee's dick but it's pleasant sitting in the sun.
Miss bus again but catch the next to Southland, cross the road and catch Berwick bus which stops closer to home but not close enough to stop feet hurting again.
Sister rings.
Half mother's house is arriving at 3.30.
Since I pushed and shoved and removed drawers to have everything ready, it is.
Pine cabinet in through the back door.
Whine, whine, whine when I ask them to move old cupboard to carport where it will be doing sterling duty as my tool shed.
They go back to pick up bookcases and CD tower.
I didn't notice sister putting boxes on top of each other, all filled with glassware.
One bookcase down the hallway.
CD tower in the study and I do have to move the picture, do that tomorrow.
Bookcase in bathroom doesn't work for the towells so I wait til they leave and drag it inch by inch into the sewing room where it fits but blocks off power point. Buy another power board for the other side of the room.
Sit down and faint at the solicitor's letter. I can't understand a word but secretary talks me through it.
Mouth starts to hurt especially where I've bitten my mouth while it was numb.
Stomach complains through lack of food and giant dose of antibiotics.
I'm trying not to look at the bags and boxes that have arrived.
The screw holding my computer chair has just fallen off and I'm too tired to upend the thing and do the two wrench trick to put it back.
Was there a good moment?
A crappy little envelope with the initials, M.J.J. on the front and 'from the pest' on the back.
The writing is little more than a millimetre in size which is how I know it's from my father in the last weeks of his life.
In part it says,
To my Beautiful wonderful trifecta
words written or spoken could never
express my feelings for what you did for me
this past year.
None of us can remember seeing this letter before or after he died.
Such a small but wonderful treasure.
Such a treasure indeed, this letter from your father.
ReplyDeleteBut what a day.
Interesting though, apart from having recorded it all here, this day you will most likely forget, but your father's letter, never.
The letter is a find indeed. How did you never see it?
ReplyDeleteElisabeth, it's like the note book my son found after Dad died. He'd written in it when my mother was unlikely to live in l989 (she did)and we'd never seen that but it will be read at her funeral service because it was so beautiful.
ReplyDeleteAndrew, I can only think that mum put it away with her papers and it was so small that she forgot about it but I'd never read it and my sister doesn't remember. This is why it's taken me so long to go through every box in her bedroom to make sure nothing was missed.
"Miss bus by bee's dick..."
ReplyDeleteThat's an odd place to have a bus stop.
jeepers Coppy - what a day you had.
ReplyDeletePLEASE get some rest.
You know,J, you are allowed to give yourself a day off!
ReplyDeleteHear hear, I'm with the rest of your commenters and fans - take a day off. No, a week off!
ReplyDeleteYes, take some time off and I'm glad you got the tooth fixed with a reduction in cost.
ReplyDeleteFleetwood, I was so pissed because I was only feet from the bus when he took off, I even waved to show I was there. Couldn't have been worse than the taxi driver this morning, I thought I'd have to show him how to start the cab and I don't drive. I bet there's a village somewhere in Midsommer that's called Bee's Dick.
ReplyDeleteNo rest for the wicked Bwca, it was out to the solicitor's with all the relevant papers and just as well I was late as there was another lot to sign in the mail box. And they've put the 'For Sale' sign up on the wrong house.
Jayne, tomorrow I might just not rise from my bed until after midday. After all there's only boxes to unpack and put somewhere and I've realized I haven't got a gin and chocolate cupboard anymore.
Kath, I think I need to read your book on work and life. You haven't written one on how to poison a family and get away with it?
River, I intend to make my bed tomorrow, that is take off the winter doona that I'm sleeping on with the summer one on top and put sheets and pillow cases on like a civilized person.
on the wrong house !!!
ReplyDeleteStacks, knowing the estate agent, someone's head will roll.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful thing to find, JT. A treasure indeed.
ReplyDelete"And they've put the 'For Sale' sign up on the wrong house." Sacre bleu! Did you kill a chinaman or something...??
ReplyDeleteThe letter is a real treasure
What a great letter. I'm glad when you found it because it was obviously such a frustrating day.
ReplyDelete(Brian haven't you heard that expression before? It's definitely one of my favourites.)
I have to leave another comment now just because the word verification is so brilliant
ReplyDelete*ninguana*
Fabulous mythical creature, I can just see it!!
Muriels,lots of little bits and pieces have come to light so I've put them together in case some future genealogist want to know about us.
ReplyDeleteTherese, I'm so pissed, as an apology to the bloke, the agent gave him two tickets for GoldClass. I got a bunch of flowers for giving them the house sale and I really want GoldClass.
Helen, mythical creature? Sounds more like a mythical & potent drop of booze. If you mix it with my WV of Oushni then it sounds very Vodka-ish.
That 'future genealogist' you mention, will be of course' your grand-daughters children.
ReplyDeletere the Muriels: the other day I was on a blog I had never been to before (followed a comment) and it had a recommendation to the Muriels blog by a Michael who had no link clickthrough. Isn't that nice? He said Miss C was being raised in an exemplary manner.
Are you aware that any Executor, may legally award themselves an amount they decide themselves, from any Estate they handle, as recompense for effort?
My awful uncle did it when Gran died.
Just sayin so you can buy some Gold Class with it when you take it all.
Thank you Bwca, Miss C is simply the best and so are her Mums. Did you see that 4-eyed git Fielding in the Age today equating same sex marriage with incest? Total moron.
ReplyDeleteI knew about the executor thing and I think it's why my one remaining friend from marriage days hasn't be seen since I made my sister, my executor.