Friday’s Funk

Q. What happened to Giggles & Bits Thursday?  beating_heart
A. Prince died

And now the funk has followed me into Friday. It’s a numb, sad, feeling of loss. I am wondering why this affects me so much, I’m a fan, yes, but I have not followed his music for years now. He was one of my favorite musicians during the 80’s. I had a lot of favorites back then, the 80’s were great for rock & roll. Queen, Aerosmith, Joan Jett, Fleetwood Mac, Foreigner, Bruce “The Boss” Springsteen, and Michael Jackson – to name a few.

So… Now I am thinking about how celebrity deaths come in 3’s. Doris Roberts, now Prince. Who is behind door number 3?  Perhaps 1 and 2 are Garry Shandling & Doris Roberts, or Patty Duke and Garry, then Doris, making Prince number 1. We won’t know until the rest of April goes by. If a major celebrity passes before May, Prince would really be number 2 (I think.) Anyway, that is confusing and not even the point.

What is my point?

I have been depressed this month, before Prince left this world. Now I’m depressed AND sad. This means it’s time to write a Gratitude List. Tonight I’m too tired (and sad). This week-end I will make the time to write one. I know it will make me feel better!

♥  Rest in Peace, my Prince  ♥

Death and Taxes

Do you know that the IRS keeps demanding your money – even after you’re dead?

This sure puts a new spin on Benjamin Franklin’s quote:

“‘In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.

Who knew he meant at the same time?


I am dealing with the nightmare that is my sister’s taxes. Personal, as well as her estate’s taxes. First of all, the word estate conjures up visions of mansions and filthy-rich old people. Sis was not wealthy or old when she passed away. She was unemployed, with a modest retirement account. Can’t the IRS just let it slide? I mean, she’s DEAD.  How can they send her a refund?  Duh.

As next of kin, I am responsible for filing  her 2012 taxes. AND her “Estate’s” taxes, that need reporting on a totally different form. How the Hell can I fill out forms when I have no clue about what to put in them? I only have some of her files. I can guess about what her “estate” is worth. Do you think the IRS will be OK with that?

I do know that I am not going to be stuck with paying the IRS interest and penalties because of my sister’s taxes. I have paid enough already. The probate attorney doesn’t contact me about what is going on. I didn’t hire him, so I have no “rights” – apparently. Sister’s fiancé hired him as a favor to help me out. They live in a different state of course, BECAUSE NOTHING IN THIS FREAKING LIFE IS EVER EASY – IS IT?

I am my sister’s “Personal Representative”. I believe that this title only authorizes me to sign court documents. After 11 months, we still don’t have a probate hearing scheduled.  How much research does the attorney have to do?  My sister didn’t have anything to research.  When they tell you “probate takes years”, believe it.

When things get overwhelming and I reach Threat Level 5, I get pissed that my sister is still making my life miserable.

She always was a little brat. Sorry Sis, but we both know it’s true  😉

photo credit: wallyg via photopin cc

It’s Lonely When You’re Last

Forget about whining “it’s lonely at the top”. You worked your way up, so you could be there.  Now you are.  So, be happy. (sorry, but I’m crabby this morning)

Through no effort on my part did I become the last member of my immediate family. Believe me when I tell you – it sucks.

Every day I will come across something that I can’t wait to tell my sister, mom, or dad about. Except I can’t. And there is no one else in the world I can share it with. A thing that only parents & siblings could talk about, and I don’t mean deep dark secrets.  The silly things you experience as a family. No one else can “get it”, even if you carefully explained the back history leading up to whatever it was, it would not be meaningful to anyone – except your parent/sibling.

These little memories, and the need to share them, are tough. But it’s the “stuff” – packed in boxes taking up half the garage, waiting for you (and only you, because you’re the last one) to deal with it.

Winter will be here next month, so the boxes have to go. This means opening and deciding what to do about the contents before we can park vehicles inside, out of the weather. I have no time to procrastinate.

Even More Boxes

It hasn’t even been a full week since the boxes arrived. My sister’s fiancé and his brother, drove a truck and large trailer  filled with boxes for 670 miles, to give me the family “stuff”. Not only my sister’s stuff, but mother and dad’s stuff too.

I have gone through three boxes so far – opening one every day. One had my mom’s little diary/notebooks she kept when we were kids. The one from 1958 was only half filled in.  The last entry was my birth weight and length. Mom was too busy to keep writing after that…

The second box had mom’s kitchen odds and ends, including her  rolling-pin that she (and dad) got for a wedding gift. That will come in handy. I have granddaughters who need to roll out Christmas cookies soon.

The third box belonged to my sister. It had yarn and knitted blocks for the afghan she started while we were taking care of mom.  Seeing the bright-colored squares brought tears. We both were working on afghans during that time, to help us stay sane.  I tell myself I must try to finish it someday, and put it with my craft stash.

Today’s box? I have not gotten it from the garage yet. Truth be told, I am still in my jammies, drinking too much coffee, while I write this. As I think about which box I might choose today, it occurs to me (I am waking up now) that I will have to open more than one box per day, to be finished by November.  Is that good or bad?  Is the  “getting it over with” approach more beneficial emotionally than “strolling down memory lane”?

Leave it to me to take a different approach, a merging of the “getting it over with” and “memory lane”. I’ll call it the “sorting” approach. I’ll do an initial sorting of items (keep for the kids, Good Will, and mine). Then the old “just crap” that should never left at mom’s house to begin with, can go to the dump.

I can “stroll” as slowly as I like this winter. Savor the love letters mom kept in a special wooden box (from the guy she didn’t marry),  family history told in scrapbooks my mom put together as well as files researched with the genealogy society. Now completing our family tree is up to me. I haven’t found mom’s computer yet, but a lot more files are on there too.

Suddenly, I feel overwhelmed and sorry for myself.

I already have boxes of  STUFF stacked in my office because I don’t have shelves or cabinets to put things away yet. Now here comes another house-full of STUFF to get shoved into the corners and crevices of my new house.

After giving myself a pep-talk about taking it one day at a time, and not to get my panties or (blood-pressure) in a bunch, I decide to suck it up and get dressed in my grubby un-packing boxes clothes.  If there’s one good thing about being last, it must be that you can keep or toss whatever you please.

Who’s going to bitch at you about it?