aw, fuck.

Angel just called me from the office. My good friend/co-worker, Joanna, received a phone call this morning from her brother that their mother had died. She had just recently been taken to Johns Hopkins hospital in Maryland because she has some crazy weird cancer that I can never remember the name of, with multiple complications from it. I knew that things were getting bad, but in the realm of looming amputation kind of bad, not death bad.

In the time that I've been working there, she and I would sit outside on the step with our cigarettes (and later, just me with a cigarette because she had quit smoking) and vent about our cancer/Mom woes. She was a huge pillar of support for me when I was going through the absolute darkest shit you could imagine. Jo's my age, born in the same month. I'm at the beginning, she's at the end. And a lot of the troubles I had, she also had. Our problems were similar and it was always good to have someone to talk to who really understood what was going on.

Christ.

This is so fucking unfair.

(no subject)

There is no other Hell quite like the DMV.

Because of my license being lost, along with the rest of the contents of my wallet, I am now forced into getting a duplicate license. To do this, it would appear that I must jump through several hoops.

I have a passport, issued in my maiden name (I must remember to change that, because this is the bulk of my woe), a birth certificate, an unemployment ID (from my long stint of being a bum), and a library card. My social security card is gone and apparently, my marriage certificate. I can't find that anywhere and it's really starting to piss me off. I'm beginning to believe that it was also in my wallet, I had a rather large wallet, because I know that I frequently had to show it as proof of name change.

To get a duplicate license, I need to show proof of age, identification, address, and Social Security. There have been tales whispered to me of some strange six-point rule that DMV now requires, but I'm unable to find any verification of such.

Age is fine, I've got the birth certificate.
Address can be a bill, from what I'm told. And I've got plenty of those.
Identification can be my passport.
And Social Security can be either a paystub or a W2 from my employer.
Name change, which I'm screwed on for the moment.

It would seem that I now need to take a trip to the county court house and get (another!) certified copy of my marriage license. Something which I am not looking forward to, whatsoever. The county court house which holds this is on one of those "historic" streets that apparently don't believe much in parking. Or, with the enormous accumulation of snow we recently received, plowing out what parking is actually available.

This is such a goddam headache.

What couldn't someone have just taken the money out of my wallet and the rest of it where they found it? Stealing my identity is going to be a big shock to them if they attempt it, because I've got rotten credit and they won't get far on that.

Upon researching a bit on the additional matter of my passport, I've discovered that I can send it, a form and a certified copy of my marriage license to to the passport center in Charleston and they will change it for me. For free. Rather then the $60 and bunch of bullshit paperwork that some passport agency just quoted me online. I'm a bit loath to send my passport through the mail, but if that's what it's going to take to have the damn thing changed, then so be it. It'll have to be after I get my driver's license duplicate, because I need it for that damnable procedure.

Meeting with the bankruptcy attorney in less than an hour, then possibly a trip to the bank to re-open an account and see if they'll give me the money in my mother's account. More headaches.

On the bright side, when I was digging through my purse to find my passport, I found a check from the federal government for $75 for the homestead rebate. I got it in December, thought I cashed it, but it would appear that I didn't. Now, I at least have the check to deposit into whatever new account I open, instead of fighting over how it's empty.

I'm also thinking about calling Joanna, to see if she needs anything. But, I'm a little hesitant to do so. I know how it felt to get bombarded by phone calls the day my mother died, when I was trying to get the funeral arrangements, err...arranged and I'm not sure if I want to do that to her.

Baby-killing headquarters will be representing at the funeral, though. Angel and I have already discussed this. At the very least, she and I are going. I'm not sure about the rest of the group. It would be nice if they did, but I can understand them coming.

None of us personally knew her mother, but we all love Joanna immensely. And along with honouring the deceased, funerals are also about support for the bereaved. I wanted to thump that into the heads of some people when they didn't come to my mother's funeral, but felt that it would be mildly tacky and more then a bit attention-whorish to start screeching about how people needed to take care of me. Many people who didn't know my mother at all (like Miss Beth, God love her) came as a show of solidarity (which still makes me kind of weepy to think about), but there were a few noted abcenses.

ugh. 2:19. Almost lawyer time.
Lawyers make me as uncomfortable as doctors do, just without the added extreme hatred.

(no subject)

My marriage certificate has been located. It apparently had found a new home, tucked inside my passport. I have a habit of doing things like this, putting things in places because I don't want to lose them and then turning right around and forgetting where I put them to begin with.

The bank won't give me the money from my mother's account because I'm not the executor of her will/estate. Despite my protests that there IS no will or estate, they still won't give me the money. It was recommended that I get something called a "short certificate" and bring it back to them, declaring myself to be executor.

This whole mess gives me a headache like none other.

The bankruptcy attorney wasn't all that bad, despite the fact that she was enormously pregnant and that always squicks me. She told me that there shouldn't be any problems with the repossession hearing coming up and that I should get the life insurance paperwork filed as soon as I can. She also gave me the number of a local estate attorney, with her recommendation. I don't have the money for my own attorney, I really don't.

A phone call to Joanna was attempted, but her cell phone just rang and rang. I'll try again tomorrow, I think.

Now I'm just sitting here, with my raging headache, and poking my fingers through the rat cage at Simon. Bed should be soon, I think.