I’m suffering from funeral and burial cooties. Today my chest is congested from mostly post nasal drips, which are clear in color. Maybe my recent consumption of goat (I would pronounce this word as two syllables “GO – AT”) milk produces too much mucous.
I thought I had burned off the cooties during a one-hour nap yesterday. I thought gargling hydrogen peroxide would help to cleanse out the mouth and throat. I thought rinsing my sinus with saline solution would flush out cooties. But today I blew out twice some yellowish stuff, which was the painful stuff that cause my painful.
You see, my cooties started our after Monday’s crying while typing up Mom’s eulogy. Mine as angry, Dad was loud, Das Squirrel didn’t do his. I made my peace with Mom that Monday evening.
I would hear the single or double depressurization popping sounds from the the double acrylic windows. I knew Mom was wandering around this old house. So I would say aloud: Mom is Love you. Mom is Miss you. That sound has since stopped last night as I assured the wandering spirit that I would say Catholic prayers aloud before bedtime in the following order (at least for forty days to maybe one year):
- one I Believe In God,
- one Our Father,
- one Hail Mary (outta respect for our mothers),
- one Glory Be,
- one O Sacrament, and
- one Eternal Rest Grant Unto Mom, Oh Lord; And Let Perpetual Light Shine Upon Mom. Amen.
Then on Tuesday’s viewing the clogged up, painful left sinus was aggravated from the freaking COLD air conditioning system blowing all around me. My black veil helped to shield the cold air since my hair is cut short! I didn’t have a sweater but had an polyester top that trapped my body heat like plastic cling wrap on meat.
So yeah, when I forced myself to stay until three o’clock in the morning two days ago, I’ve finished my scanning stuff of envelopes, cards, checks, and CASH, including a symbolic copper penny from the Chinese in-laws. Yesterday, we deposited the check and some old wrapped coins into the bank. I was tempted to deposit the wads of $100 and $50 but my incoming thought said to gift the one dough to the Deacon who said the rosary from Mom during last Tuesday evenings vigil.
This morning I forced myself to scan the message cards to my Mom’s flower arrangements and then called 1-800-835-8443 and sent an email inquiring about an unidentified sender of flowers.
Oh yeah and for whatever reason I cannot view the obituary comments online. I can only see two nice ones from parishioners. I wish to only see and remember good stuff. But for the meantime, I’m gonna avoid viewing memories of Mom, videos, photos, and other sentimental stuff. Because I need to perform for my two signing gigs and I cannot have congestions!
I also need to survive Monday’s job interview. Once again, it pays as much as a burger flipper. But it’s way past our local airfield base. It’s almost as if I should move outta this old house and leave Dad to do his own business and hang around his own species of elderly folks.
Unfortunately, he is a ‘Lone Ranger’. He has always been a private person. He is NOT a people person. My parents were long time parishioners but they maintained their low-profile.
I don’t mind volunteering but there are too many cooties. And I get sick easily. This means I do NOT travel well.
Anyway, with regards to donating my car, I had a feeling that y’all could do without a extra vehicle, which needs care and maintenance. Last year, I spent thousands of dollars. So given your circumstances, I understand. It’s okay, if y’all don’t want a one-dollar deal. It’s a donation! All y’all have to do is register my car under your name and take care of paying the auto insurance, gasoline, fuel, repair and maintenance!
So that car is still good for me. I’m sure Mom would wonder WTF I’m getting rid of my car. But because the assholes refuse to hire this old fart, the car is parked in front of my driveway. I don’t mind working. I just don’t like people. And unfortunately, getting along with humanz is part of the job.
And so for the past twenty years, I’ve NO real income. In the next twenty years, I’m NOT working either. See? I have to control my hatred and anger. And I live in Silicon Valley. WTF is the point of owning stuff if I cannot reciprocate my time and effort in exchange for cash so I can buy stuff and then get tired of the stuff and then donate the stuff later one?
This morning I had to downgrade Dad’s AT&T service and I was trying to cut down his other stuff. I wanna cut down my stuff but it’s still good! I still have to donate stuff. But I’m sick. So I have the next twenty years to do nothing interesting except blog anonymously and in private mode! That is such a waste of time. And I’m still not anywhere near God and the salvation of a pain-free, joyful existence.
Flynn B congested