Daddy dearest and I are playing Lecter/ Graham chess again. He’s been moving around the family trying to get documentation signed to force the group home/ward of the state issue, citing every screwed up thing I did since I was twelve, up to and including bed-wetting.

I had already taken power of attorney away from him and entrusted my sister Gail; he had been peddling twisted facts and outright fiction to her until she was on the verge of panic. I got in touch, gave her the score, she calmed down enough that she’s not signing anything. My stepmother dropped by and gave me some background info, and is not only refusing to sign anything, but has had so much of his craziness that she’s nearly having breakdowns from the sound of his voice on the answering machine. She’s removing herself from the situation completely, so there we trade pawns.

My adoptive other interfered in the clumsiest possible way, fucking a little of my manuvering room through sheer self-importance and uniinvited meddling. No win there. Essentially, the board has changed enough that he can’t cut me off cold
without looking like the fuckhole bastard he is, and he’ll go great lengths to avoid that, so I’ve bought myself some wiggle room and checked his attempts to railroad my gimp ass. So I’ve got some breathing space, I’ll find out how much on tues.

In the meantime, I’m beginning the process of looking for an acceptable roommate, so’s to lessen my expenses.

I’m back to wishing the evil old fuck would just die while I’m still in the will… he’s 80, but like Mr. Burns, he’s just gonna linger on forever.

Goatfucker.

In the meantime, I am entertaining either a roommate or trying to find a studio apt in an elevator or ground floor situation… so keep your eyes open for possibilities.