First things first. Gwen and I had two rescued dogs: Scooter, a huge Stafforshire bull terrier; and Thor, an Australian terrier. It would make them happy if people honored Gwen by sending something to the Cumberland County Pet Connection Charity, P.O. Box 1, Toledo, IL 62468. We know one of the people who run the charity and they are always strapped for money. It's tax deductible, so do it. Or let me know when you first joined Al Queda.
Bought a book from Amazon called "How To Go On Living When Someone You Love Dies." And a Micky Dolenz CD. And two Ruff Hewn tops at Carsons. The retail therapy didn't really help. At least the tops fit.
I'm purging, I guess. Washed some towels today and threw out all Gwen's undies I found in the laundry. There's not much else to do with them. I donated her glasses to the Lion's Club. They refurbish them and give them to people who can't afford them.
The fridge needs to be cleaned out. You don't want to know what the head of lettuce I found looked like. Thankfully, the garbage disposal is still working, but it sounds weird. The sink was hideous until I found some Barkeeper's Friend at the store. The kitchen was Gwen's domain. I had no idea things had gotten so bad.
Rummaged around her desk and found some unpaid medical bills. Now that she's gone, I will lose my insurance, since I piggybacked on hers. That's scary. Maybe AARP has something.
I have to pick up Gwen today, I think. I know I have to give the funeral home a bunch of money. Her obit didn't show up in the paper today. I thought it would, but maybe the funeral home wants the money first. Makes them sound nasty but it is a business. The man who owns it was a class behind me in high school.
Wednesday afternoon the neighbors who knew Gwen and having a quiet celebration. They are shocked at what happened. I have to tell the same story over and over--today it was the lady at the alterations shop who Gwen befriended. She just kept saying, "Your father just died and now Gwen is gone? No no no no."
Let's see...has anything good happened? I think this is making my youngest grow up, since he's almost my parent at the moment.
Oh! I talked to the family geneologist who has become something of an expert on DNA. Part of our family came from the O'Neill clan in Ireland. As it turns out, the two guys--the white cop and the black professor who had beers with president Obama--turns out that the professor carries the same DNA bits as me. So he's a relative of sorts since we came from the same clan and DNA pool. And I guess he would be not an African-American but an Irish-American. So of course he would drink beers with the president! I was drinking one (Blue Moon) when I found out (really). Ha ha! Stereotypes!