The Sound You Hear is My Forehead Reapeatedly Hitting the Desk
I‘m approaching the end of my rope.
I’m not there yet, but I’m sliding down quickly and some bastard’s greased the last few meters.
Nightmares this weekend were the least of it.
Tristan has a fantastic attorney, who’s cutting us a huge break in terms of payment.
Between bailing Tristan out and making the first payment to the attorney, we’ve paid out $10,000 of mostly other people’s money. Friends and acquaintances have been absurdly generous, but even so our savings are pretty much gone, and there are additional bills to pay.*
We thought we had a plan to pay the next $5000 to the attorney, due on August 1.
Well, Tristan’s mom’s been laid off of her job of 14 years, and the woman who was organizing the benefit concert had to go in for brain surgery.
You can’t make this stuff up, folks. It’s just crazy.
The only thing I can think of to do is to sell everything that might be of value. I’ve e-mailed an acquaintance of mine who owns a bookstore here in town to ask if he’d be interested in my collection.
* Including an unexpected tax bill that I’m not going to bore you with. And then there’s the fence I’ve got to replace before it falls over.