I wonder who figured out that the chances of getting people to vote in an upcoming election were greatly increased if they put , “Contains Vote On Proposed Tax Increase” on the outside of the ballot envelope, right above where my name and address are. Now I want to rip the thing open and see who is trying to raise my property taxes, and why. Actually, I think I already know. I think they want more money for schools. I am for school funding, but I believe the budget should be made public record and the tax payers should have some say in the allocation of funds because no matter how much they raise taxes here in Oregon; there is never enough money for schools, even with the additional funds they received from the temporary Multnomah County Tax.

I had a moment last night while moving my Mom’s dresser and placing it on top of her car when I decided on the tattoo I am going to get. It is going to go right across my lower back, and it will read, “Yes, this is my back, and no, I will not help you move.” It will be a magical tattoo. I will not have to wear skimpy clothing to show it off, but rather anyone who asks for me to lift anything heavier than 15 lbs. will be the recipient of x-ray vision that will temporarily allow them to see through my clothing to my lower back and read the words there.

I haven’t been having panic attacks during this stressful time of trying to move my Mom out of a 4000 square foot house into an 800 square foot apartment, just a constant state of anxiety. This state is probably enabling me to do things such as carry dryers up flights of stairs single handedly. There was the moment when we were headed to the new apartment with the back of her wagon loaded and an old sewing machine that doesn’t even work strapped to the top of the car and she went to make a turn, asked herself, “DO, I want to go this way, no” slammed on the brakes, and turned and went down another street. That caused my heart to race and my head to whirl. Cars keep their distance from you when you have large pieces of furniture strapped to the top of your car, and so they should. I told my Mom that instead of spending hours in psychotherapy trying to figure out why I have panic disorder I am just going to bring her into the room and present her wordlessly to my doctor.

She promised me that this move she was going to pay someone to do it, but alas she ran out of money and we are once again running the loads ourselves. None of my siblings are answering their phones, and my Mom’s best friend, the one who owns a pick up truck, made a spur of the moment trip to the beach. I can’t say that I blame any of them. I told my Mom last night to rent a UHAUL. This is ridiculous and I have reached the frayed ends of my rope. She keeps apologizing and I feel so bad that I can’t abandon her. I have no idea how she is going to have that house empty by the 31st but I guess we’ll manage somehow.

I took today off so that I could clean my house and do the laundry. Today is my husband’s birthday and he is asleep as he has to work tonight. I want to shower him with hugs and kisses and cook him his favorite meal and bake him a cheesecake but we decided to wait for his days off to celebrate .Instead I try to quietly clean while he sleeps. I miss him so much.

I continue to do the socially irresponsible thing and list free items on craigslist. I am so happy when people come and take things away. This Japanese man came with his little son. His English wasn’t very good. He took every book we had out there for free. These books ranged from Advanced Calculus textbooks to women’s sexual fantasies by Nancy Friday. I brought those over. I figure I might as well take advantage of this time to get rid of my crap too. He caught me on my way outside to take the recycling out and asked me to read him the labels of every can of paint, every tub of spackle, every can of liquid nails. “What this for?” he asked. I don’t know why he bothered to ask because he took every can. Finally he turned to my Mom, who had come outside by this time, and asked if his little boy could use the bathroom. My Mom looked to me and I shrugged my shoulders and nodded yes. He didn’t strike me as the axe murdering kind, plus his little boy was squeezing himself in front in that tell all way and having two kids of my own I remember how they always needed to pee at the most inopportune times. My Mom led him into the front bathroom and after he shut the door we could hear him yelling, “Too small! Too small!”  I have no idea what was freaking him out. That bathroom is normal sized and it’s never flipped my claustrophobic trigger. After some time of him yelling and my Mom and me looking at this Dad to see if he was going to do anything about this yelling boy the father finally went and opened the door. “Just pee now!” he commanded .The door slammed and the dad waited, arms folded across his chest. When the door finally opened and the boy peeked out the Dad pushed his way in, turned to my Mom and said, “There is some wetness on your floor.” My Mom spun on her heel and came back quick as a flash with a bucket of steaming bleach and water and a mop. The boy saw my Mom coming; her lips all gone from being set in a determined line, and started wailing “AHHHHHH!”

The man took his things and rushed out of there. I don’t think my Mom will ask me first before she lets the next stranger into her house to use the facilities. In fact I am sure of it.

She looked at me after their minivan had pulled away and said, “I have no idea what that boy was talking about. Obviously he was trying to say, “Too big! Too big!”