September. Finally. Already. Whatever. It’s still ninety-some degrees outside with a heat advisory. And an extreme fire weather watch because drought. But at least August is fucking over. August sucked extra hard this year. Anyroad. A few weeks back, Bob came home from work (first in a long time that he had to actually go into the office) and stated, “I feel like we need an owlbear around here.” So… S: To be fair, you…
I shoveled dirt into my brother’s grave. I fucking hate that statement. Back in November, Mom told me that Joe was going to be cremated and in the spring he would be buried at the cemetery in Savage where my [paternal] grandparents are. Spring ended up being August 25th. It was a smaller crowd this time, but think it was meant to be that way. We gathered at the cemetery in the late morning. It…
August. Ish. We finally have our access road back. Mostly. There’s still a big torn-up mess all around it, but our dirt hill exit has been obliterated and we have fresh asphalt, curbs, and retaining wall. The house is still being violently shaken at all waking hours of the day, however. BUT they have opened a long closed intersection and a whole new service road that didn’t previously exist so there are two new ways…
July. We all know how I feel about July. I have tried a dozen times to write something here and every time I open up a draft my brain just says, Yeah no. GFY. Then when I did write something, I deleted it. Because I can. The cooling fan I keep under my laptop has suddenly taken to randomly rattling very loudly and then stopping just as sudden. Then it stopped rattling, but it was…
June. Summer. FEH. …) We held out until Memorial Day to turn on the A/C. It had been in the 80’s for several days in a row, but the humidity never seemed to get above 25% and the nights still dropped into the 50’s so the house did not feel like a sweltering hellscape. The humidity was still low when we flipped the switch, but it was 85 degrees outside and that was going to…
May marks six months since Joe died. I fucking hate that statement. It’s something that enters my brain every single day and it still feels like some sort of bad joke. Twice in the past month I have told two different people I don’t know that my brother died and I realized that was the first time I’ve uttered those words out loud to a person not in my isolated circle. And hoo boy, while…
