mrpeenee has been in a funk. Not funky, as in "git down you funky motherfuckers" but in a funk, as in "Why should I get out of bed when I'll just climb right back in here?" Not helping things have been the piles of unattended to paperwork looming about, staring at mrpeenee with accusing fonts and distracting me from the attention required by expensive porn.
Stacks one, two and three seen here in their sullen poutiness. There is also a stack four, but I was so depressed taking pictures of random window envelopes and their contents that needed my attention, I had to give up. At one point, I believe there was a method to this madness that explained why each stack existed separate from its brethren, but then I remembered one of the piles was just what had fallen off of the one next to it and suddenly I was back to longing for my own widdle beddy-bye.
All of this is the result of R Man's death (and, by the way, its his death, not his passing, or his end, or his expiration, or any of the other synonyms the clerks I'm dealing with fumble to find when they have to say the word. Death. It's OK.)
It's been four months since he died and I started down this particular rabbit hole and I'm farther from finalizing all this than I was in March. A huge part of it is my own slothful fault, some of it is just the nature of dealing with government agencies, agencies devoted to survivor benefit, but who don't like to say the word "death." I torture them with it, pronouncing it very clearly, with relish. Plus, it takes so little to get me sidetracked. Late in April, I slammed into our water bill, which had always been paid automatically from R Man's checking account. Oops, not happening. Instead of dealing with it, I decided to go see what was going on over in Pornland and wound up avoiding having the water cut off only by a desperate, last minute trip down to the water department. So very not pretty.
And, in my defense, let me make clear I am not some little wifey who had all this financial stuff dumped into my ignorant lap. My superior OCD talents meant I was always the one who sorted the bills and filed them after payment. How I wound up with this "Big Stack, Little Stack" system is a mystery to me.
I decided not to post this until I had made a good faith effort at clearing away some of the paper underbrush and once I got going, I wound up finishing it all, except for one bill that I need to argue about and one complicated deposit thingy I need to straighten out. I am plenty pleased with my bad self. That even includes the brief, but scary period when I thought I had lost a very large check, a check with a great many digits. I was prepared to go to the mat with the agency that sent it, demanding a new one, when I found I had been looking at it all along without realizing what it was. Oh, the wacky hijinx of mrpeenee's financial adventures.