My car is once again full of other people’s crap.
The bulk of it is Vic. She’s ace, she’s put up with some serious shit, she’s mum and mum and mum and she’s also trying to keep a business afloat in changing times. I helped her chuck a load of crap out, I refused to chuck some of it, I sold bits and researched other bits. I gave her the value and then gave up on the absolute crap. I figured she’d never really mind about the fact I couldn’t be bothered to sell the rest of the stuff on her behalf when the hourly rate wouldn’t balance the profit. Turns out she was still holding attachment, so its just as well I didn’t just charity shop the lot. “Oh my God, you don’t know where that candle holder is? But it’s an ANTIQUE candle holder it could be worth loads.” It’s worth fuckedytuesday, sorry babes that’s the world, hi. I’ve told her sister I’ll donate £20 if she manages to sell it for more than £40, just as I know she won’t and I hope it’ll be some sort of a teaching moment.
I’ve given it all back, the stuff, apart from the couple of boxes I’ll drop off tomorrow, and now … I’ve got a bit more room in my home. The fewer random boxes the better. She’s found an eBay reseller who will definitely take more than I did and good luck to them, it wasn’t worth it for me to sell on the basis I was selling where I basically gave the entire value to Vic. I did it initially after she gave me some employment hauling junk. But I’m not a fucking charity. I
Still I realised there were still some Nest Thermostats, about the only saleable bit of tech. The reseller will get something for them at least. Everything else is tits. There’s some slightly good bits of security equipment but they have no wires. Inexplicably she sorted all the gadgets into one pile and all the wires into another, long before I got involved, but effectively ruining the resale chances of most of her tech that isn’t standalone like the thermostats. The wires are lost for the rest. There’s no means of telling of they’re working or not.
That aside, I went to see an old mate of mum’s. She’s 80. That’s the way to do it. Still brilliant. I absolutely loved seeing her. It’s what might have been. How did mum go so soon? This fucking world.
It is Anna Maria’s fiftieth birthday today, her daughter. We were under parental pressure to like each other growing up. We both dealt with it differently, perhaps. Mum dying when I was young led me to a clarity about mum’s desires for me, and a happy understanding where I could follow my own needs but acknowledge where they differed from mum’s. I think with her mum still alive she’s still in “screw you mum I don’t like him” mode, which is hard when all I’m offering is friendship. Last I saw her she was at pains to make sure I knew her friends were more important. It was a temporary social thing, but spoke of something deeper and I just rolled with it. The bruise of a lost mother is painful all over and I know legacy matters so perhaps a friendship between us could be a legacy of sorts. I wish we could find that. I have fewer and fewer connections to that wonderful maniac mumfriend who brought me up and then died.
On we go though. And today some good news about work. Cessa.
AlBarclay 