Day #27

    Yesterday mechanic got to the point where he thinks we can smog next weekend.  He says he will find the place to take it.  Still tracking down what is making the battery drain overnight.  He’s a great mobile mechanic.  After-dark, side-of-the-road work doesn’t bother him at all.

    Still no services from the City.  Still no stimulus check.  Either one of those and I would be out of here Feb 1st.  Without,  I dunno.  But I did the IRS requires filing, and legally, he is able to get a stimulus too, even though he died July 7, 2020:

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    I have cried more in past 24 hours than I have since I fell and broke my nose, third day out on my own.  Oh I cried a lot that day.  Exceedingly wept.  This man was my true companion,  my best friend, my husband of 27 years.  I don’t understand how I am still here.  Surely a person dies from pain like this.   In middle of this kind of grief, I must fight to be in my home.  Never mind helping me.  There isnt help for RV dwellers,  just a cot at a homeless center.  Just leave me alone while I struggle to hold on to what I have.  Don’t try to help, that might lead to others being helped. I truly have a hatred for city workers who do nothing but take home a paycheck.  I will write more on that later.  Right now, it’s enough to know that somewhere out there is $1200 with my name on it.  All I gotta do is keep paying the mobile mechanic every Saturday and hang on to my sanity while facing the hatemongerers who come out at night to yell.  My gut grinds from anxiety.  I don’t sleep except in the afternoon.  It isn’t hard to eat very minimally.  The fear is real.

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    I also took a leap of faith and sent off for the process at DMV switching the registration to my name.  I managed not to cry.  I am all cried out from yesterday’s work, which was make a proper resting place for his ashes.  The wreath I found on the sidewalk, someone left it across the street, where the angry white man lives.  I will treasure it forever.

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