The vet, an intern as usual, was really hard on me on the phone because she wasn't able to reach me yesterday. I tried calling her in the morning but I was put on hold forever and I was about to leave to help my friend Susan take her headshots, so I had to hang up when Susan got here. The vet called back but I told Beau that I couldn't talk to her. I guess she was just frustrated with me and angry because she probably didn't like my funny outgoing message. I love leaving funny outgoing messages but whenever I do, my dark, gothic, miserable life jumps up and strangles me for it. Messages from my Mother fill my machine, shaming me for "making people wait through a silly message, when there is important business to be done."
My Mother is going to be here at 2:30, she wanted to come over and have me sign a quit claim form to the one piece of property I own outright. She is going to pay off the loan that I have on the building now, pay it out of my own inheritance, but she wants to be certain that I sign this form first. I want to make sure she pays off the loan. It's a little bit ugly and sad. I've always done whatever my parents wanted in terms of signing things and agreeing to things, I'm a sheep in some ways, and then in others I'm criminal. I want to be sure signing this is the right thing to do. It would return the ownership of my building to her for the rest of her life, and make it impossible for me to sell or take a loan out on it. I told her I wanted to talk to a lawyer about it and that I needed to be certain it would be in my interest to do so.
My cats mean so much to me, they give me so much joy, but I hate being perceived as this nutty cat lady. I hate that people don't understand that I'm seen as being at best incredibly eccentric, well, maybe eccentric isn't so bad, but being a crazy aging cat lady is depressing. I have to think about what would happen to my son and my cats if I were to die. Beau wouldn't want to live with his Father, he isn't capable of caring for anyone really, he just doesn't go that deep. It's sad to say that because I loved him one with every cell of my being, I still love him, just not naively and innocently as I once did. I don't have any relatives other than my Mother and she is eighty-six, I think. I don't have any brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles or cousins. Beau doesn't have any relatives on my side. We're all only children. Then there are the cats, I have to think about what would happen to them. I need to write up a will leaving something to them. Before my Father died I didn't have anything really to leave them, other than my building, now I have my Father's trust, if I can leave that money to someone for their care then I can be certain they won't end up at a shelter or somewhere horrible. See, I told you this would be depressing. It's just that I haven't been well for a while, my weight, my blood pressure, my bladder, and all the other things that have been catching up to me are starting to scare me. I want to have this surgery but I'm afraid I'll be one of the people who die.
As if that all isn't depressing enough, I was reading people magazine late last night and there was the saddest article. It was about two women who lost their husbands on September 11. Two widows who were in so much pain they took their own lives. One shot herself in her bed, the other hung herself with nylon rope. I cried and cried. How can you not be torn up by this? I tore out this picture of this beautiful couple, Pendyala Vamsi and Prassana Kalahasthi, an East Indian couple who didn't even know each other when their families engaged them, but who later fell deeply in love. They are so beautiful in this picture, their wedding photo, so handsome and lovely in their garlands of flowers and silk, red chrysanthemums and gold, their futures so bright with promise and hope. Sometimes I feel so alone, living hurts and my cats keep dying, it feels so risky to love.