I had the WORST nightmare this morning, it was nuts. I dreamed that my mom called me in a panic,
late at night asking if I had the cash from selling the mustang yet, because
she needed it now. I said “no, we haven’t
sold it yet,” so she told me that she urgently needed me to come over and pick
up some kind of special debit card grandma had for her benefits account, and
withdraw $1200 to cover something, and it had to be done that night. And I did, and then had to go on some kind of
crazy scavenger hunt, because there are only certain ATM’s the card will work at,
and it’s in a dark, creepy strip mall up an inexplicable set of stairs, but I finally find it and get the cash out,
and go back over, and ask if I need to go deposit it into her bank account so
she can send it to the mortgage company—because that is where this is going,
right? And also, isn’t the payment not due until the 31st? And here
is the ATM receipt, do you realize that we just completely drained the account???—and
she breaks down and confesses that isn’t what it’s for. She’s managed to get herself into some kind
of trouble with the Russian* mafia, they stopped by the house today, and are
coming for the cash in the morning, and they need $1200 “or else.”
She explained that she accidentally got involved in some
kind of online scam, a website that guaranteed they could fill whatever
prescriptions a person had for under what the insurance would charge, for her, just
$300 a month. So she filled out some
kind of online agreement and sent them a list of all of grandma’s
prescriptions, but it turned out they said they couldn’t fill them for less
than it was after insurance and never sent anything, and she thought that was
the end of it, and she didn’t think it was a big deal or that she would have to
cancel or anything, because she hadn’t given them any kind of address
information, but somehow they FOUND her…
And then my husband burst through the bedroom door (the door is sticky,
so anytime anyone comes through it, it sounds like they are bursting through)
and said “hey, it’s 7:40, don’t you have work?” and I’m like “crap, yes, I have
tutoring at 8, why didn’t my alarm go off?!? Oh my gosh, but we need to get that
money together for my mom…” and then I realized it had been a dream, and had to say outloud several times "it was only a dream," while I
quickly got dressed and got some coffee and went down to do my tutoring
session.
And the whole time, my mind is still churning, and making
stupid observations like “That makes no sense, grandma is on hospice and they
pay for all of her meds, what has she REALLY gotten herself into, was it for her own meds, or my
sister’s? Or is it some kind of gambling debt?” and “Oh no! Did I just
commit some kind of social security fraud by removing money from grandma’s
account without her express consent? Oh God, now I’m a criminal, too!…” instead of doing
the reasonable thing and reminding itself “hey, stupid, it was just a dream,
calm down, it’s not real. We don’t have
to worry about the mafia, just the mortgage company, the utility people, creditors,
and the IRS…” My brain couldn’t let it
go because it was SO freaking plausible, and exactly the kind of thing that could
happen, it just hasn’t yet.
So, here is what actually HAS been happening, since a few
people have asked.
Here it is: …......... nothing,
or nothing much.
I mean, nothing is relative.
For instance, a couple of weeks ago, at 2pm on a Friday, my mom called
me in a panic (her normal way of calling me, for the record) and said that her
mortgage payment was due that day, and she needed me to come over to the house
in Troutdale, pick up $35 cash from her, and drive it back to Gresham to deposit
into her bank account. The bank closes
at 5pm, the payment has to clear by 6pm.
Can I do it? Because she was counting on my sister to do it, but she
couldn’t get in touch with her (and had made no advance arrangements for this to
happen.) I was like “ACK, yes, I can,
but I am out running an errand and have to get back home for an online tutoring
appointment, and can’t leave until that’s over, but I will race over as soon as
it’s done."
The appointment finished at 4. I got over there at 4:20 because traffic in
Gresham is stupid in the afternoon.
Right before I got there, she sent me another text, “also, can I borrow
between $5 and $20, I can pay you back on Monday.” I walk in the door to get the cash and the
deposit slip, I ask if it’s actually 5 or 20, and she says 20. I’m like, “OK, well, I have zero cash on me
because the kids cleaned me out for a field trip, so I’ll have to stop really
quick at the store and get some, and then I’ll go to the bank.” Back to the traffic, the store, the bank on
Friday afternoon…. I get the money deposited
at like 4:45, just in the nick of time, and call her to let her know. She gets the payment made, by the skin
of her teeth. Monday comes and goes, I’m
obviously never getting paid back the $20, I’m just glad the house is safe for
one more month, but …
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.
How did this all come down to the last second? Just . . . HOW? She either had the money or didn’t and had to
scrape it up somehow, was it really some kind of last minute thing? The 31st isn’t some kind of catlike
phantom that silently sneaks up on you, moving imperceptibly and unpredictably through the grass, until
SUDDENLY, IT IS UPON YOU. “OH MY GOD, NO,
IT’S THE THIRTY-FIRST, I NEVER SAW THIS COMING, AHHHHHHHHH!!!!” (Just like taxes, though, right?) And why
couldn’t she have at least let me know the night before, or that morning, instead of that afternoon with just a few hours left to go, so it had to turn into some kind of action
movie, countdown, bad guys coming, gotta make the drop on time or else
something blows up situation? HOW?!?!? But this kind of thing happens all the time.
And for this reason, and because of other things that I have learned
about, or have had reason to become suspicious about but don’t want to commit
to writing at this time, because if they are true…yeesh, it’s bigtime illegal
stuff, and if they aren’t true, I’m spreading baseless rumors (but I’m 99.9% sure
that they are, unfortunately.) In any case, the point is, the nightmare about the Russian mafia
shakedown felt so incredibly plausible and in-line with everything else that
has happened so far that now, hours and multiple distracting activities later,
my brain can’t quite let go of it, and it still FEELS real, even though it’s
not.
As far as what else is happening, as far as I know… no one
is going to relent and sell New Car or $$$ Sewing Machine. Those options aren’t even being considered. My sister had some kind of giant “moving sale”
and sold off God knows what (husband went over to help, and said I was NOT
allowed to go over because it would upset me.)
Whatever money she made off of it was NOT given to mom to help make the
mortgage payments. I think some of it
went to buying my nephew an expensive birthday present, as were the proceeds
from the Magic cards he sold off in a big giant panic like his housing is on the line, and they are keeping the
rest for when they get evicted, as far as I can tell. (But probably, it just got spent on miscellaneous
whatever, and/or entertaining my niece’s Fortnite boyfriend who actually flew
up from Arizona to visit her. WHO KNOWS?!?)
In other news, my nephew turned 18, and is finishing up with school, sort of, but is adamantly telling anyone who asks him about it that no, he's not looking for a job, he doesn't need to get a job because he's enrolling in community college in the fall... Oldest niece, still no job, no ambition to get one. No one is doing any kind of online employment that anyone can do, even though the pay is crappy, it is some pay. And so on. All of this is just crazy-making, because we
are just $4500 away from no one being evicted at all, and say, $1000 from selling off a bunch of magic cards and running a garage sale would have put
us a lot closer to that next payment, and then the next one, but no one is thinking
like that.
It appears to be every man for himself right now, and not
even that, because they aren’t even bothering to swim for it, or anything, and
the shore . . . it’s like RIGHT OVER THERE, RIGHT NEXT TO THE THIRTY-FIRST, but they’re floundering around, yelling "help, help," and making a
superficial attempt at treading water, and that’s about it.
In better news, my brother-in-law came down from Redmond and
got the Mustang to start, so we should have an easier time selling it now. Hopefully, because my first attempt to sell
it was hella stressful and fruitless. I
could’ve traded it to this guy for a pretty sweet motorcycle, no problem. Or sold it to some kind of ocean researcher
stationed on a ship who is looking to buy it as a surprise gift for her father, but the whole
transaction has to be conducted via email and Paypal, hmm…. (And then I got three more emails almost
exactly like that but with slightly different details—come on scammers, at
least be more creative.) And then I got a bunch of phone calls from people asking
questions I didn’t know the answers to about the car, and once people in a car-buying
situation perceive your ignorance, they get really uppity and try to take you
for a ride, and it’s insulting, and frustrating, and anxiety-provoking, and so
on.
It’s hard enough to sell a car when you at least know you
get the money, and to be rid of a car that is cluttering up your life. But I’m getting nothing out of this, and the
car’s not actually in my space where I have to deal with it. I have, in fact, spent the last few years
ACTIVELY trying to ignore that stupid car, and to know and think as little about it as possible, due
to the absolutely irresponsible, fucked-up circumstances in which it was bought…
(bought by my niece who didn’t drive at the time, still doesn’t, with money she
should have been saving to live on, with the unfounded expectation that someone
was going to help her fix it up, from my con artist, drug-addled sister-in-law, against
fervent recommendations from everyone who knew better… Do you KNOW how relieved
I was when I finally realized I had never checked to make sure it wasn’t stolen,
and found that it was not, or at least not reported as such…) So, yeah, it’s kind of stressful, but that
next payment is coming due, so we’re getting it done, now or never, do or die…
Or maybe, I’m saying to hell with it, and GETTING MYSELF A
FUCKING MOTORCYCLE.
Because that would
be sweet, and I don’t really think what we’re doing is going to fix the long-term
situation, anyway. All of this just
feels like band-aids and duck tape, and I would look awesome on a motorcycle. (And I would almost certainly crash it and die two weeks
later, but at least I would no longer be worrying about this, so that still
might count as a win...)
---
*And why the Russian mafia, specifically? Just because the only mafia guys I personally know/know of/do unrelated-to-mafia-legitimate-business-with in the area are Russian, or maybe Ukranian, I don't know. Former Soviet Union, somewhere, I feel like it would be rude to ask for specifics.
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