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October 28, 2016
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Triage in the Wake

I've not slept well these past few nights.


Not only am I in a strange bed in a place that has not been "home" for over eight years, I'm trying to deal with the financial, emotional, and logistical elements of our current situation. Rather than resting and staying asleep, my mind is trying to figure out how to move our office into our already-packed living room, plus adding additional book cases and filing cabinets, without sacrificing my ability to put up my sewing machine, keep my only means of transportation (bicycle) in the apartment, and find space for sentimental treasures, plus finding a way to monetize that which we cannot keep or store, so that we can finance the process.


Besides my body's need for sleep, I'm having to find ways to support my already-traumatized sister which is, largely, the root of the issue. I've been accused of being heavy-handed, and this is what she doesn't need. It's not so much that I'm a "take charge" type of person (nowhere will that be more apparent than when we come to the issue of books and my collection of teddy bears, most of which are in storage, with those that are still in Queens having to either go into storage or be abandoned, because I cannot bear pun intended to get rid of them, though logically I know I must pare down the hug considerably) than that I can't see an option other than having my sister move in with us, and the shortage of time is part of the jigsaw puzzle weighing upon me.


This would be only the second time in her life that my sister will have relocated, and we're in an area where there are fewer public transportation options than she has currently (or she had growing up). While it appears that this move needs to happen, I'm worried about adding insult to injury (or psychological trauma to psychological trauma).


The situation has also thrown upon me the issue of end-of-life expenses not just for myself, but for my father and stepmother, my sister, and The Other Half. None of us have any financial resources, most of us are without life insurance (or the money to acquire it), and the cost of a very basic funeral is equivalent to that of a down-payment on a "handyman's special" house, or the outright purchase of a new economy coup automobile.


Aside from New Year's Eve, which adrenaline rush (powered by a pre-phone-calls binge of peanut M&Ms candies) kept me hovering around 120, and the fallout from last night's (semolina) pasta night, my blood glucose levels have been relatively normal. My pressure was elevated somewhat Sunday morning, but this is not unexpected given the current stress situations.

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