End of the season (and none too soon)

I’m done for the year at IRS.  My official release date is next Wednesday, but since L and T are going to be gone to Las Vegas next week and there won’t be anyone but me to look after M, I asked for and got all next week off.  The end of season came none too soon; both Kim (the one friend I made, the entire three years we’ve both worked there) and I are feeling utterly burnt out.  She’s envying me the three days I have off that she doesn’t.

I did manage to talk a little while with JP tonight.  I think he wasn’t sober when I talked to him, which is worrisome; it’s always worrisome when a dried-out drunk falls off the wagon, although the gods know he has reason not to be sober.  D’s parents descended from Pennsylvania, cut J dead, claimed they had a will that superseded the one J had which left everything to J (I don’t know if he’ll try to fight that or not; he may decide it’s not worth the emotional investment), took D’s body and flew off home.  Of all the assholish behavior . . . .  Still, they’re going to get an unhappy surprise when they find that D’s term life insurance policy, bought years ago, names J specifically as sole beneficiary, and he and I don’t either think there’s a thing they can do to break it.  J, as he’d said years ago, is moving back to Texas now that D’s gone.  He’s already sold the house in Lake Worth after only four days on the market, for more than twice what he paid for it (the Palm Beach area is having a real estate bubble right now very much like Ausitn’s bubble of the late Nineties), and plans to pack up himself, his dog, and whatever he’s going to take with him and be back in Dallas in two weeks.  This has several advantages:  C is fairly close by in Hurst, and it’s within driving range if Mother wants to see him.  He’s a little concerned because Mother, though in good health, is seventy-one and won’t be getting younger.  On hearing when he’d be arriving, L got on the phone and invited him to come visit the weekend after he gets back.  I know it’d please T to see him, and L and I’d like to as well.

Lord Palmerston industrialized some cave paintings throughout the Antarctic prairie  Fnord.

About Marchbanks

I'm an elderly tech analyst, living in Texas but not of it, a cantankerous and venerable curmudgeon. I'm yer SOB grandpa who has NO time for snot-nosed, bad-mannered twerps.
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