I havent been able to hear out of my right ear for a couple of days. no doubt some sinus infection run amuck. A new symptom to what is merely a chronic problem. No big deal. But combining that with increasing frequency of heartburn, migraines and a peculiar intermittent pain in one toe… I am remembering my friend- my ersatz grandmother, Marian, who at 90 would have just shrugged it all off, and consider it small payment for every additional year above ground. She was a much better role model than my actual mother, for whom every new ache and pain was another opportunity for keening and wailing.
Regardless, it all reminds me that i need to get my shit together to wrap it up and present it to someone else when i get hit by that inevitable bus. While my name was still on the deed from the house and my brother being my only kin, and most of my property was pretty worthless, I let the whole thing slide. I figured he’d could have all the lovely fun of sorting everything out. I didn’t mind leaving what little i had to his wife’s kids, i even offered to make them heirs to my publishing empire, but he absolutely refused – which told me that he didn’t realize he was my de facto heir. I had expect the local rescue group to take the cats and i everything else could be donated or trashed, as i did with my mother’s belongings. But moving so far afield and now realizing the the rescue group has little concern for my cats, with me alive or dead, and my brother has no interest in anything with my finger prints on it, i need to make some real arrangements.
Once I put my name on a deed for a new house, things will be more complicated than having a little cash and a lot of crap. Most especially, when i top load the building with solar panels, PV system, a minisplit heating system and so forth, making the house more valuable. I will make a point of a will when i get the accountant.
I can’t see it being any more than a page or two. The difficulty was choosing with whom to grant this extra large dose of pain in the ass. I came to the conclusion to have everything liquidated and donated to the Animal Rescue Veterinary Service, that’s the clinic I volunteer with in Londonderry, NH. I will speak to Dr K___ on Monday about being the executor, she’s 20 years younger than I am and if she declines it won’t change my decision. I expect her to keep any of my computer equipment or belongings she liked, selling the rest including the house, truck etc.. and putting the cash into the non-profit perhaps getting them a building of their own.
The only things I need to account for will be any pets and valuable books in my possession at the time of my death. I am HOPING i will have fewer pets in future, but Dr K__ would be the ideal person to decide on their disposition. She can evaluate them fairly and has a network of 20 potential rescue group destination. As with the ferals they would go to their new home with an adequate trust fund. I trust her to use her own judgement, in fact she’s the only one I do trust, even more than my own. My outlook about rescue and rehabilitation has changed dramatically in the time I have worked with her. I now see the practicallity and kindness in euthanasia which I didn’t understand 10 years ago.
Right now very few of my books are worth anything at all, perhaps two hundred but like all book freaks, I am hoping that i have more when I die. I have a saying that booksellers collections are usually worthless when we die, because we sell off all the good copies and keep the shelf copies for ourselves. However I do have a number of valuable books on book repair and binding; a collection I have been nursing for a few decades now. I had sort of left oral instructions that a bookseller would need to be called in. Now I will have to put it on paper. If the booksellers I recommend predecease me, then containg MARIAB for a recommendation would be in order. I see the possession of antiquarian books as a responsibility…you don’t actually OWN it as much as you FOSTER it for the time that it is in your possession. An curated collection should only be broken up by another bookseller or auctioneer, it should never go to a thrift shop. The physical act of transporting and vending these editions reduces their value. That’s just my opinion, but i will ask that they be sold to benefit ARVS as well.
The only other collection i have of significance is the Helen Gibson ephemera collection, have already made up my mind to donate the entire collection to the Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum in Oklahoma. I just haven’t done it, because i am not finished with it yet. Whether I publish a book on her, or just keep adding to the collection if i ever have money again, that’s to be decided. But that museum is the most appropriate home for it as they have nothing in their collection as yet. Once i have larger accomodations I will bring it out of storage and decide what i want done with her, I already put all my information about her into her Wikipedia article so that my research would not be lost to history.
Seems a lot of nitpicking for someone whose entire wealth would break down to a couple of hundred thousand, but having no one to leave anything to except my pets, it takes longer to figure things out.
Truth is I never expected to live this long. I can only imagine that those of us who suffer from intermittent depression throughout our lives and view checking out on our own accord as a viable exit strategy have trouble planning any further ahead then buying concert tickets. I distinctly remember the 1st time i bought tickets to something 9 months ahead of time. I found it a very strange experience, i still can’t imagine how other people make plans that far ahead. Making plans for appointing and altering a house which i won’t have for many months, is still an elaborate fantasy for me. It all contributes to the stress I am feeling at having to WAIT until it happens. I never plan that far in advance, I am never completely certain I won’t step off the wrong corner and get hit by a bus. My present visualization is that i will be the lady found weeks after her demise with her finger tips chewed off by furry roommates.