June 16, 2010


I'm eleanorroosevelting again, for the third day in a row.

Eleanor Roosevelt was First Lady of the United States and later a delegate to the United Nations General Assembly.  She chaired the commission that drafted and approved the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

I read years ago in a biography that she was able to accomplish so much because she touched each piece of paper only one time.

As it happens, the only mail I've opened since November, other than bills, was the stuff with handwriting on the front. The rest I stacked.

In two days, I've cleared the papers off the dining room table; the floor beside the dining room table; the coffeetable; the couch; the basket beside the couch; and one of the desks.

And yet so much remains.

Given the extent of the paperwork, I'm filing in only the broadest of categories.  2009.  2010.  Family.  Banks. Credit cards.  Tiny pieces of paper with website addresses printed in my handwriting (the largest file so far).  Photographs.  Essays completed.  Mentoring, current.  Mentoring, completed.  Collage items cut out.  Collage papers.

I could go on, but I'm thoroughly tired of thinking about it.  The good news is that so far I've found three uncashed checks (an indication of the utter chaos illness creates).  I also discovered that a company called Complete Savings has been charging me $12 a month on a credit card ever since I ordered a pizza online from Pizza Hut in June, 2009.  They're refunding me for four months, and I'm continuing discussions with them over the other $108 they scammed me out of.   May a bird of paradise fly up their noses. May they rot in hell.

The point of my industry is to get to the point where I can complete my 2009 taxes. (I'm getting a refund.)  With that done, I'll then have to address the laundry basket filled with financial statements from hospitals, doctors, labs, and two insurance companies.

All of these tasks need done immediately, but there's only me and thousands of pieces of paper.  However, when I finish, I'm getting my eyes done; and if I'm not yet bankrupt by then I may just have a facelift, too. I used to be categorically opposed to such things, but I was young and stupid back then, and right now my left breast remains bright red, sun-burned from the inside out by the radiation; and my life is my own, and I'll do what I damned well please.

But first I have to do the paperwork.

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