On Facebook I seem to be relentlessly, aggressively cheerful. So do others. I am not. Many days I am so far from cheerful even the dogs avoid me. It seems like this whole Happy Housewife Look At How Well I Am Doing is a cloak to wrap in, with the fervent hope that eventually it will grow into my skin and become real.
I am not happy. Sometimes things don’t seem too bad, the ducks are in a row and all that. That’s not really happiness, more like satisfaction that for one more day it’s pretty much ok. That’s enough for now, being pretty much ok.
Some things are very confusing, and those are beyond my control. Stuff like Health Care Insurance. The Federal Gummint says “ok, we’ll pay for this. But we need all sorts of documents (that don’t exist). No, really. They don’t. They want my paycheck stubs from the last 2 months. If I don’t have that, they want my w-2 from last year. Himself’s won’t do, it has to be mine. At this point I would tell people to get a job, even if it’s just a few hours a week, just so there’s a paycheck stub or W-2, in case it’s needed. So I get all the stuff i can find, every sort of document with some kind of income thing on it, and all the certificates that prove Himself and I exist, were married, and he died, plus a terse (yet polite) cover letter explaining the situation, in the futile hope that a Real Person will read it and take pity on The Poor Widow. Federally speaking, hasn’t happened yet even through 5 sets of stuff. Except that I, inexplicably, am receiving insurance statements declaring that I am, indeed, getting coverage. Ok Then. The State Gummint (which, naturally doesn’t communicate with The Federal Gummint) actually has a Genuine Person attached to it, who, with great patience and good humor, has been very helpful and while it isn’t in Order yet, seems to be getting there. As yet, I do not know if the state insurance will supplement or replace the Federal, but whatever. you’d think they’d have this figured out, but apparently not. no wonder this country is so deep in debt. So now what I do, every time they send me yet another letter describing my book keeping inadequacies, is send them yet another stack of every sort of certificate and statement. I have not yet gotten to the point of sending them originals, as those are not free. I will keep it up until someone Real contacts me. So far, the Real People have been most helpful.
My attitude, at this point (well, has been since mid March, really), is “Fine then. you can’t do anything worse than has already been done. Asshole.” Perhaps this can continue for 2 years, at which time I will disappear into the ether and become a chicken-goat-cat lady who smells funny and has organic home-grown kale perpetually stuck in her teeth. Or marry a lawyer.
honestly, 30 years of being a hard-working, honest, Kept Woman has meant there is precious little patience for all this and the paperwork when someone dies is RIDICULOUS. Thank you, Mr. Attorney Man Who Is Well Compensated For His Time, for handling much of it. And Thank you, Himself, for your life-insurance wisdom. And NO THANK YOU Nancy Pelosi, for your “guys! Guys! Let’s pass the health care reform act and THEN read it! That’d be great!” But on the other hand, thank you, Good Dr H, Dr Courage, and Dr P, for taking cash. Because really. NO thank you, Dr. R’s Office manager, for NOT accepting cash payment and turning me away entirely…I mean…what. The. Heck.
Sorry. I’m on a rip-tear here.
Simple fact is, it’s not as bad as it could be and I should be thankful for that. And I am.I’m just having a temper tantrum because I am a Princess. Sorry…(not really)