Relativity

The outdoors is beginning to smell like fall, the cooler nights are welcome for blankets which are good for burrowing under after the day. The neighbor lady is trying to catch the feral kittens before winter comes in, this weekend I shall buy apples for making and jarring sauce.

This post is more of a vent, for even though life is seemingly back on track, some things just don't change. In a nutshell, my father offered his small house to the Church, they refused saying they don't deal in real estate. He offered it to my brother, who is getting everything in the will anyways. John said he has enough on his hands with his own, and doesn't want to put the necessary money into repairs. To me, it wouldn't be an inheritance, it would be a sale. "I never thought of giving you the house, Susie; I'll sell it to you for $29,000. We paid $14,000 for it back in the sixties, and I put $15,000 into it. Maybe you could get a loan."

I don't know. There are a lot of bad memories hiding in the plaster walls, but I could clean it out, add color, replant the roses my mom loved. It has a pretty good backyard, needs a sump pump excavated, an exterior paint job, and a cellar wall needs to be sealed. Like an exorcism, sprinkling salt and burning sage could purify the phantasms. So you see, I've thought of it. It's his house to do with as he likes of course, no one owes anything to anyone. Why he would give the house to my brother or the Church for nothing, but hand me a bill of sale is the same old nonsense, and it still hurts. Ah well.

My dreams have been full of seashells, which supposedly means wanting protection and security. The shells are colorful, mostly oversized, broken or extravagantly curved; I am happy when finding them. For all my hoo-ha and premonitions, I'm not one to believe in dreams; if it weren't for the repetition of the subject matter, I would pay little attention. Maybe you will dream something tonight, a message, a solution. Sleep well, dig under the blankets.