Degrees... and Degrees

Fuck. It's hot!

Not only hot, it's humid. That's saying a lot for Los Angeles. Usually, summer 'round here is in the high 80's to 90's, but without this damned humidity.

It's so humid I'm sticking to everything - except writing, that is. The heat has addled my brain.

Add to this the fact that my aunt died yesterday. Normally, the death of a 93 year old woman wouldn't stress most people out. After all, she's (hopefully) lived a long and fruitful life. Nope, my stress from her death comes as a result of my lazy-ass-sister's inability to cope with having to be a part of this family, so she pretends that we don't exist. And, therefore, I was asked to become the conservator for my elderly aunt.

Okay, no problemo. This one should be a walk in the park, right?

Little did I know the hassles in store for me. The paperwork alone could sink a luxury cruise ship. That, plus I had to get a fucking bond on my house, just to insure that I wouldn't take off to South America with my aunt's money.

Oh, brother.

Of course, now that she's died, the game has changed. There even MORE paperwork, and I need to contact relatives even I didn't know existed.

Surely my act of selflessness will earn me a cushier spot in Heaven, don't you think?

Yeah, right.

Write...now there's a concept. Hopefully, I will get my shit together long enough to complete any one of the dozen-or-so ideas floating around in my over-heated cranium.

Or, I can just sit here and bitch about the weather.

Decisions...decisions...