Atomictumor

So, most every year I try to ignore the impending holiday season until I can’t possibly not ignore it anymore without the kids staging a mutiny (BJ has always broken down before me, traditionally, tho last year SHE was the one that wrote the angry “friggin Christmas” post… I need to find those old archives). This year is not an exception.

To me, the whole Christmas tree decorations and stuff is a hassle. Its just an unnecessary expense of energy. I don’t get sentimental about holidays, or dates, or stuff, so I’ve never been one to sit back and say “ahh, I love the holidays”, but I have been known to woot when they were over.

Yes, I’m a grinch. I admit it.

However, we need to go ahead and get the ball rolling on the tree and what not, so maybe this weekend, maybe sooner, we’re going to roll out to Skunk Ridge Tree Farms, our Christmas tree killing field of choice, cut down one of those bastards by hand, and drag the dead arbor to the house, like a mighty trophy of yore.

Then we’re going to wire that bad boy up, put some breakable stuff on it, and maybe put faux dead branches around the TV and, if I’m froggy, some electrical illumination devices around the windows.

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We went to BJ’s folks house today, hung out, and watched the second Pirates of the Caribbean movie (I had chinese food, yum).  BJ’s Dad says that her Mom isn’t doing much different, that when people are over, she’s OK, but at night she still cries herself to sleep.  Hes not sure how long it can hold out like this.

I can’t say I’m particularly worried, but I think I have a bad attitude about the whole thing.  I feel like if I’m making it as well as I am, theres no excuse for everybody else not making it (after all, we were friggin soulmates and all), but while I feel that, I also understand that I have no idea, so I should just keep my damn mouth shut.

Or something like that.

So, I try.

Anyway, he mentioned that she wasn’t going to do Christmas this year, which kinda irritated me, because she always did that for the kids, rather than for BJ (and me).  She just doesn’t want to be reminded of all of the ornaments that BJ had, or gifts she’d get BJ, or stuff like that.  BJ was her baby, and a very coddled one, so to speak.  Her parents never said no to her, they indulged her, and loved the hell out of her.  Thats why I keep my damn mouth shut, because theres stuff there that I just won’t ever know.

I digress.

So, I asked her, within earshot of MastaG, if it’d be OK if we came over this weekend to help put the tree and decorations and stuff up.  She agreed, and acted like it was a good idea.  Not sure if it was or not, either I’m tough loving her and getting her out of the mope that she’s in by forcing normalcy on her (like we’re doing here), or I’m torturing her.

If I’m torturing her, that kinda sucks, because there are a BILLION things I’d rather do than put up MORE Christmas friggin decorations… why couldn’t BJ have the decency to get sick in like, June or something, so maybe we could just go to the beach?

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Which reminds me of another thing, an oddity I’ve noticed in myself.  I’m finding myself, in conversation, talking like I’m glossing over her death.  Instead of “death certificates”, I tell folks that I went to pick up “her certificates”.  Or, I notice myself saying “we”, as in “We’re going to put up the decorations” or “We were going to get that present for Pigpen”.  I know, as I say that, that theres not a we, but its more of that automatic stuff.  It doesn’t bother me, I just find it interesting, because a week ago I wasn’t doing that.

This feels like its been forever.  It really feels like months have gone by since BJ was alive.  I can’t even really imagine what it was like anymore, to have her in the living room, messing on the computer.

I feel, sometimes, that I’m running this whole “dead wife” thing into the ground.  I came up with a plan today, but I’m not sure if I’m going to enact it.

I’m going to hit a point, pretty soon, where I’m not going to have much more to say, because things will go back to uneventful here, and I’m still not interested enough in the outside world to write the way that I used to here, back before this started.

Don’t be suprised if you swing by here one day and find a placeholder, instead of the actual ‘Tumor.  I won’t take it down, I’ve worked too hard for it, but I think I might need to enforce a break on it, and if I find myself constantly compelled to come here and write, I don’t think I’m ever going to get that break, and let that wound start to scab over.

I think I may have aired it enough, and Bos has his own place to write now…

So, I rolled out this morning to meet the SSI people, so that I can claim my government sanctioned weregild. I got there, as requested, 15 minutes early, to a mass of people huddling outside the door.

A little like on the Statue of Liberty, but no half naked girl in a robe.

After waiting about 5 minutes, we were allowed inside, where there was jockeying for position between “Guy Who Brought Two Sisters And Wants Everybody To Know”, “Angry Middle Aged Woman Who Has Been Trying To Get These People Off Their Asses For Four Years And Fix Her Social Security Check And Wants Everybody To Know”, “Loudly Whispering Old Man With Wife Who Doesn’t Understand Why Wife Is Doing This”, and the ubiquitous “Guy In Cowboy Hat” to be first in line to punch in your number and magically get a ticket.

I, being a cosmopolitan IT professional, fully versed in the ways of magical ticketing machines, was content to get my ticket last, and locate the most secluded seat I could find.  LWOMWWWDUWWIDT came over and sat down, were they commenced having the loudest whispered conversation ever (that, or my transformation to a bat is nearly complete) until I was called back.

The angry German I was expecting was replaced by a friendly middle aged guy, who complained about the computer, strained his neck because the monitor was too low (he told me his chiropractor was a good friend), and took about an hour to get everything loaded up.  By the time we were done, I had claim receipts in the amount of Exactly What I Was Expecting (which may mean my transformation to a clairvoyant bat is nearly complete).

Score one for AT and getting stuff done.

Since I was out of oranges this morning (subtract one from AT for slackin) I had a tasty breakfast of chicken biscuits at the CFA, and then dropped off the paperwork for BJ’s life insurance claim to work (4 -6 weeks till payday).  That means I’ve pretty much cashed the girl out.  I think I still have to sell back her school books, then I’ll be done…
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I was wondering today, if somebody put the born and died dates to our marriage, when would the final date be?  Nov 17?  I don’t think so, because I’m still taking care of her stuff.

The other day, when I took off the rings?   Nah, I don’t think that either.

—

When I got home, I pulled up in the driveway, and saw BJ’s van sitting there.  I involuntarily got excited that she was home, before I stopped myself.

I think maybe when I get rid of the van, that’ll be a good end date for it.

Is what I need to have subtly tattooed on my head.  Because geez, I don’t like it when people tiptoe around things.

The Friday BJ died, I went into PLAN MODE.  It was pretty neat, because for once, everything was clear, I had to do several things, all in a row, and I had them all planned out.  Get makeup and clothes to hospital.  Pick the kids up.  Buy them chik-fil-a.  Take them to hospital.  Plan wake.  Plan other wake.  Give up and accept donations.  Contact work about insurance.  Change beneficiaries.  Make a will.  Figure out who’d get the kids if I get hit by a car.  Get decent life insurance to pay for said kids (although I suppose I could sell one of them). Talk to social security.

Make appointment with financial advisor.

So, I talked to my buddy Netmom, who is in on the know with everybody in like a 5 county radius, about who to talk to.  She pointed me in the direction of this one guy, and I made an appointment.  We met yesterday, at Panera Bread, to have a (free) chat.

As I drove over there, I realized that whatever reason I thought of to meet with a financial adviser was gone now, and I had no idea what I wanted to get out of the meeting!

However, he had a spiel, and went on about life insurance, mutual funds, and a bunch of stuff, and was apparently set on ‘old man’ mode, because he was using the LONGEST DAMN analogies to get his point across!

The way I figure, if I say “I understand” the first time you explain it, you don’t HAVE to explain it again!

It was kinda like the organ donation folks, all over again…

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I’m meeting with the SS people today, and I don’t expect that.  In fact, if the meeting goes quite as I expect, I’ll have a hostile woman with a Germanic accent demanding paperwork of me (”SCHNELL!”) that I was not prepared to bring, and have never heard of.  Then she’ll shoot me, and eat my liver.

Thats pretty much what I’m expecting.