, , , All Fucked Up.

Sigh . . . .

It just never fucking ends.  Maybe I’m supposed to drop blogging.  [More likely, I’m supposed to get the hell out of this place.  Either way, someone’s obviously trying to tell me something.]

So this morning, my laptop keyboard goes all clusterfuck.  Doesn’t appear fixable.  Need new laptop. 

Go to bank site to check accounts; discover that my savings has been wiped out in the last hour by a certain government agency that insists I owe them more money from two years ago than I actually do.  [If I were, say, a multibillion-dollar corporation that gave $$ to the GOP, and owed hundreds of billions, they’d let me off with less than a 1% penalty, but nooooo - I’m just a dirty fucking hippie who thinks Dear Leader is a war criminal, so . . . .]

Phone rings a few minutes ago.  It’s my mother, announcing that she’s staying at the nursing home tonight because she thinks my father may not last through the night.  [This leaves me very conflicted for lots of reasons I shouldn’t detail here, at least not at the moment.]

So does this qualify as my three bad things?  For the next year, say?

I was going to do some blogging tonight; not sure I can deal with it after all.  For now, I’m going to go find a wall and bang my head against it for an hour - or ten.  It’ll be just as effective as anything else I could possibly do, obviously.