commentary on clientele
I guess it just takes some ranting on the intarweb to make dreams come true.
Today is the second day running that I have not felt like ASS from my damned
cold. To be sure, I'm on hard core medication, but it's actually WORKING for
once. And I'm still mucous-ing up a storm, and my voice still cops out on
occasion (usually when I'm talking to a client on the phone), but 'tis of no
great importance.
And that's my story.
Not much going on today. Wayner's at Court on Sherman (who called and
complained that he was always always late -- I love her), and Sheri and I keep
yelling at each other for our own mistakes. It makes for a lot of swearing
and even more giggling. Someday I think she's going to try to kick my ass. I
plan to stiff-arm her in the forehead so she can't get near me. Hah. Take
that you tiny punk . . .
What else is new . . . ?
The 'rents left this morning for Michigan to see my brother Andrew. Then
they're going to Toronto to see my great uncle Andrew. And my boyfriend
Andrew will be keeping me company while they're gone so I don't kill my
brother -- Chris. Damn. Couldn't keep that one going.
Gar, I don't want to be at work. It just especially sucks on Fridays because
when I walk in, I know I was there not 12 hours beforehand. Although last
night, Wayner had me organizing this file that's a total mess (although very
interesting: husband trying to get kids back from wife who ran off with a
religious freak who takes all their money and tells the kids that their toys
are evil and so is the entire world -- which is okay, because it's ending
soon). It was taking forever, and it was getting close to game time. So I
said, Fuck it, and brought the damned thing home with me to organize in front
of the television. Great stuff. Too bad the game was lame.
And I just found out today that the reason one of my psycho clients changed
her Will last week is because the week before, when she was in here with her
husband for some Estate matter (who I know from my MBE days), a love note from his secret lover fell
out of his pocket. I'm supposed to find him and get him to change
his
Will, but she kicked him out and I don't know where he is. Such is life.
What else . . . I've got a fuckton of estate files going right now. People
are dropping like flies. Like SIX. That's a lot. Usually I do one probate
(what happens to all your accounts and taxes and stuff when you die) every six
months. But at Christmas time -- people pop off like you wouldn't believe.
It's kind of sad, because in most cases, I created and witnessed their Wills,
so I knew them, but I guess I'm so jaded in this business I don't really care
anymore.
And they're all LOADED, too (that's why the estates have to be probated).
Some chick I've been probating since September is leaving over $400K to
charity alone. Why do some old people save up forever, investing and whatnot,
and then not spend it, live like paupers, and then die? My grandfather did
that, and left my grandmother with a cool $1.5mil. She thought she was going
to have to go on welfare until she found that out. And with some of his
investments still going, even with her expensive retirement residence, she's
up to about $2mil now. Insane. And other old people work hard all their
lives and don't manage to save anything, and when they die, they don't even
have enough to cover their $7000 funeral expenses, and they're in debt on
their credit cards, and their executors can't even pay them off. It's sad how
there seems to be no middle ground.
I hope that before I die, I can afford to live comfortably, and still be able
to leave my children with that lovely unexpected windfall. I'd like to leave
them each at least $100K, if I can. Then they can do with it whatever they
want -- or, in legal terms, it will be
for their own use absolutely.
But enough of the legal profession.
I would like to announce that everything I'm wearing today smells like
coffee. Even my Nalgene smells like coffee. I was downstairs while my dad
was roasting his beans (their last cups before their long trek with only
pre-made crap upon which to fare, poor things), and I got caught up in the
aroma. So now I smell like a beverage I don't even consume. Ah well, at
least I don't smell like BEER or summat.
Posted by Ally at January 20, 2006 12:09 PM