They don't call me a great man
for nothing.
In fact, they charge me quite a bit!
"You had a policy on the barn?" the lawyer asked, and Ernie said he did. "Premiums up to date?" Yep, Ernie said. "How much coverage did you have?" Ernie said it was $250,000. "And what kind of coverage did you get?" Ernie told him it was a fire and accident policy. "Aha!" said the lawyer, "There's your problem." Ernie asked him why that was the problem. "You should have gotten a fire OR accident policy." I'm Dating AgainAh, I told my sister. Little things make a difference. "Yes, they do," my sister agreed. "Oh, by the way, did I tell you that I have a new boyfriend?" Little things make a difference. We finally applied for Blondie's Social Security Disability. It was difficult to do so, not because the forms were complicated or anything like that, but because the forms basically demand that you admit that you're a useless human being, not worth the oxygen that you breathe. That's not an admission Blondie wanted to make. Frankly, it's been going on two decades for me, and I'm still not wanting to admit that it's true about me. I keep hoping that tomorrow morning, I'll wake up and I'll be rip-roaring ready to go, capable of working a 40-hour week, or even a 5-hour day. The evidence is overwhelming that it's not going to happen, but hope springs eternal in an idiot. Lawyers On The Boob TubeThere are ads running on TV all the time from attorneys telling us that Social Security disability is impossible to qualify for. I've been talking to online friends, people who Are In A Position To Know, and they tell me that it's not really all that hard. The secret, they tell me, is following the instructions carefully. Duh. I used to prepare income taxes for farmers, professionals and small businesses. The same rule worked there, too. Do you suppose that's because bureaucrats aren't really out to get you, they just want to do their job? The thing is, between my agoraphobia, my depression, and my bum hip, it's pretty hard to sit myself down and gather the information I need and fill out a form. And with Blondie's vascular dementia, she isn't in any position to provide much help. It has taken great fortitude to stay on task long enough to fill out a form. There Are So Many ProfessionalsUncle Bill was in the army, and the sergeant said, "All you sons-of-bitches line up over here." Everybody but his friend Sid jumped up and stood in line. The sergeant walked over to Sid, put his fists on his hips, and said, "Well" and Sid said, "There sure are a lot of them, aren't there?" We have a lot of professionals to be seen. Blondie has appointments the next three days in a row, and because she can't drive any more, I have to take her. Add to that, the fact that I have a specialist to see on Tuesday as well, and that's a lot to deal with. Before Blondie admitted to being senile, I didn't go out more than once or maybe twice a week, and never two days in a row. How am I going to handle four appointments in three days? I don't know. I don't have a choice. I have to do it. Someone send the knacker by on Thursday with a winch, to pick up my body for the rendering factory. I expect to collapse by then. Lacking The ToolsAnd the thing is, I haven't had the tools I need to do the job. I need a printer, and there may be one arriving tomorrow, from the website I ordered it from. There's nothing wrong with my old printer, except that it takes a serial or parallel port, and my new computer has neither. When I got my new computer, I jury-rigged it up with my new computer talking to my old computer, which talks to the printer. The reason why my new computer was needed, however, was because my old computer wasn't reliable any more, and it gave out six weeks ago. I found a new B/W laser printer that was only $20 more than a new toner cartridge, though, and it runs off a USB port so it should be OK. And if I can get all the Ts dotted, and the Is crossed, maybe we'll start getting Social Security for Blondie before our house is foreclosed. But getting them dotted and crossed is pretty important. Lucy And DeanAll this reminds me of an old "Lucy Show" episode. I tried to google for the story, and it seems that episode has just been released on DVD, and that show is now on YouTube. In that episode, Lucy McGillicuddy has a blind date with Dean Martin's double, only his double is called away and Lucy ends up dating Deano himself, not realizing it. She offers him a martini, and Dean accepts it. He makes a face. How did you make that martini, he asks her. Oh, well, I didn't have any vermouth, she says, so she used lemon juice. And she didn't have any gin, so she used white cooking wine, a sweet sauterne. And these things in the martini, he asks her? Oh, those are real olives! These days, they have martini bars in restaurants, and they make all kinds of martinis, and nobody knows what a martini is. Back in the 1950s, a martini was 3 parts gin, 1 part dry vermouth, and an olive. Then they came along with "extra dry" martinis, which meant that they used more gin, less vermouth. Shaken, Not StirredAnd then Ian Fleming that came along with "shaken, not stirred." The effect of "shaken, not stirred" is that you break the ice up, and you get more melting. Your martini ends up all watery. James Bond pretends to be a snob, when he's actually ordering a rather crappy martini. These days, though, restaurants will sell you a chocolate martini, which consists of vodka, not gin, creme de cacao instead of dry vermouth, and a Hershey's milk chocolate kiss instead of an olive. They've omitted 100% of the ingredients of a martini, lock, stock, and barrel, and they still want to call it a martini. And they think Blondie is suffering from dementia? As my sister says, little things make a difference. And with any luck, she might even end up with a boyfriend whose difference isn't quite so little. Other Bloggers On Related Topics: |
|||
|
|
