169 days

[gutemensch]

One of the things overlooked in this whole pandemic mess we have is the waiting. Have to wait for this, wait for that, and please show patience and kindness while waiting as everyone doing their best. The courts are so backed up that what would have happened a few weeks after filing within 90 days of the death took 169 days.

After six and half months of my mind doing creative torture for a creative mind on what could happen today at the probate hearing. We are talking from mundane stuff a form that wasn't filled out correctly to outrageous shit the judge didn't like my shirt. I can count the nights of a restful night's sleep, on one hand, that cause I'd get either so exhausted I'd just pass out or was so unable to operate heavy machinery that my mind was no longer working as it should. In the end, none of those happened. It was actually rather surreal and would have even been comical if the 15-minute hearing hadn't cost me 125 dollars per minute.

This is a zoom with 4 panels on the screen; advocate for the estate, myself and witness, my lawyer, and the judge. Cause I had my witnesses with me, I am wearing a mask; thankfully.

Q: State your name
A: BAMF
Q: What's your relationship to the deceased?
A: I'm his son
Q: Did your father have any children?
A: *stares blankly at the camera with everything that almost slipped out my lips being as inappropriate AF*
Q: Did your father have any children?
A: Besides me?

It just got stranger and more surreal for the short amount of time it lasted. April Fools day to prove I am my dad's child. Dad surely saw that and had a laugh at the whole thing.

Now, the 90-day sprint to end it all.


That's 169 days of newly discovered anxiety experienced and defeated by the best April Fools laugh I've ever had.

I look forward to day 1 and waking up from a deep restful sleep.