2016-08-30 - 7:32 p.m.

Thank You, Mr. Pig. So Nice of You to Say.

I don't get out much.

Lately, and for months now, all do is work, care for my kids, and stare at things...and sift and separate the rubble of my life into neater piles so I can figure out how to box up and end this chapter and then get as far away from it as is humanly possible.

I can't get away fast enough.

My house and land has to be sold, and that is an undertaking that requires legal assistance.

I saw the probate attorney for the second time today, and he confirmed what I thought was happening the first time I saw him; he was absolutely hitting on me. While wearing his great, big, shiny wedding ring and while his wife was in the office somewhere. He's a good 10-15 years older than me and paunchy, with limited hairs. He IS clever and has a charming demeanor and that, in combination with the apparent fact that I am lonely and too appreciative of attention, is what kept me from being offended. In fact, I was flattered. I kept that to myself, though, which caused him to quickly gloss over what he had said and return to being business-like.

The word "sensual" should NEVER come up in a probate meeting. :/ Eaw.

It's not the first time this has happened since my husband died. Either lawyers are all pigs, everyone thinks widows are whores, or both.

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