Had a run all over hell 'n' gone and then wait...and wait...and wait sort of day. But Tom got his blood drawn and his Rx filled. Finally got home, grabbed the mail and made BLTs for lunch.

Then I opened the mail. We haven't submitted enough paperwork for the fuel assistance app. They want information about the pension/annuity/IRA that Tom has never owned. Oh, and and explanation of the $75.89 check deposited on July 1st -- it happened to be the rebate from the state for the Low to Moderate Income Property Tax Relief.

It's nowhere near the amount of (what turned out to be useless) paperwork I submitted earlier this year, but, ya know, I think I'm still dealing with PTSD...or shell shock...or battle fatigue. It makes it very difficult to fill out the forms and provide all the photocopies to prove how little income we have. I called the agency and ended up getting more worked up than I had any right to (and I explained the situation and apologized -- she suggested I have a beer and relax for awhile; right).

Tomorrow, I'll gather all the documentation and photocopy using up yet another ink cartridge and then mail it to them for lots more than one first class stamp. Most of the stuff is still out of their files because I just had to photocopy and submit them for something else. It's never done and it's the same stuff and no governmental agency communicates with any other. But this sort of thing takes way more time than it has any right to take. And I DO have other responsibilities to take care of.

Well I DID go upstairs and "rest" after I got off the phone. Started filing chronologically all the articles Tom wrote in the 1990s when he was primarily doing freelance writing as well as music. Then I read a bit. Then I gave in and took a nap. Then I filed some more stories.

I don't really realize how close to the edge I am until some inanity nudges me over the brink.

Forgive me for whining.

Linn