Michael and I drove down to Naptown on Friday afternoon...Five hours of the most boring landscape on the planet. We reached our "3 Star" hotel, exhausted. I hop into bed and notice the "comforter" had no duvet, and had. Um. Stains. I KNOW! So I called the front desk to ask for a clean one. The clerk says he is the only employee on duty, and we will have to come down to the front desk and retrieve one. So Michael, agrees to get dressed, goes down to the desk on the first floor with amazingly slow elevator. He comes back with a nicely folded duvet. After we unfold it, we quickly noticed that it is dripping wet. Sigh. So back down to the desk to try again. Michael is told that it is "Marriott Policy" (Did I spell that right?) to take the comforters out of the dryer while they are still wet, so that they won't wrinkle...OKAY! Even though the sheet on the bed is so wrinkled it looks as if the sheets haven't been changed in weeks. Ew again. I wanted to take a short swim before bed...go down to the pool. and it is so small, It would take two strokes...maybe less, to swim from end to end. AND it was filled with children. Ew. I love kids. I do. But when you put dozens of children in a pool, there will be pee. Lots of pee. So. I give up, return to our room, and try to sleep on the hardest mattress known to mankind. I moved to the tiny little sofa (which was actually softer than the bed. Can't sleep there either. Finally, I go back to the "Queen-sized bed) Riiiight, and eventually dozed off. I am going to have fun reviewing this place!
The next day, we woke up, went out for breakfast. Fairly decent little place. Since our appointment with Mr. Asshole Lawyer at the family home isn't until 2 PM, we have some time to kill. We drove down to IMA (Indpls. Museum of Art) where I worked for a year or so, as Assistant Curator of the Slide Department and Events Photographer, when I was 20 something. I showed Michael my old secret haunts on the grounds and trails of the Lilly property. It brought back some pretty nice memories, with the exception of the acrid and familiar Naptown smell.
We made it to the house 15 minutes before Mr. Asshole Lawyer. I took some outdoor photos for my kids. What seemed like such a large property to me, as a child seemed so. Tiny. When we are let into the house by Mr. AHL (My brother refused me unsupervised entrance, since he is an AHMD, with serious issues.) While there, I notice the house has been absolutely looted! Missing silver, missing china, missing rocking chair, familiar things missing throughout the house. Now. My mother specifically stated in her will that there was to be a lottery on all household items. In order to do that, however, my two "sisters", "brother", and I have to agree to this form of disbursement. Everyone (except me) wanted to liquidate all items in the house, some of which have been in the family for generations. At least. I balk at signing off on the lottery, so Mr. AHL calls my "brother" and asks what I can take. I asked to speak to my brother personally. He refused. He would not even speak to me with his AHL in the room. I was informed that I would not be allowed to leave the home with ANYTHING, unless I agreed to sign. All of my artwork was left to me by my mother in the Codicil of the will, which means it was not a part of the estate. The AHL REFUSED to allow me to take it, or anything else, even that which was marked with my name by my mother. Mr. AHL actually went throught EVERY piece of art I had since age 7, asking me to "describe" each piece. Finally, I just caved. My AHMD brother "allowed" me to take two tables, a lamp, and a silver-plated candy dish. Nothing I wanted was worth much at all. To me, it was simply tangible memories.
Flashback: My mother was due to have surgery. I promised her I would call and check on her progress after the procedure. However, due to HIPAA laws, the nurses could tell me absolutely nothing. I needed to have the "Code Word" in order for them to speak to me. Eventually, I get an emotionless call from my AHMD sister who told me my mother was "stable". I asked her for the Code. Her response: "NO. I'm not going to give it to you. I'm not going to give you what you want!" Of course the first words to come out of MY mouth was: "You BITCH!" After that she continually sent text messages to my husband, the "rational" one. Finally, he diplomatically told her not to contact him again. I read all of her posts. Unbelievable. She claimed that several years ago, I posted something online somewhere that impugned her abilities as an MD. Apparently, she has a spy who lives in the A2 area, who has nothing better to do than to read posts, she ASSUMES to be mine, and report back to my AHMD sister. Fracking crazy. I have NO idea what type of abilities, or lack thereof, that my "sister" possesses. Even if I had posted something like that, I would certainly never use her name. That is just not something I would do. In other words, it didn't happen. She was merely "playing" my husband. It didn't work. He didn't believe her. *Note to AHSPY out there, it won't be necessary to report this post back to my AHMD sister. I will send her the link.*
My other sister, who is actually NOT an AH, called and tried to convince me, diplomatically, to sign off on the lottery. After our brief conversation, the sister I once cared deeply about, and travelled halfway across the country to attend the funeral of her wonderful husband, even though, I could not afford it financially, ended our conversation with "Take Care." I responded with "I love you." She hung up.
I know. Stupid, unbelievable family drama, and completely unnecessary.
One thing I do know, is that people who recognize that they have a problem, and seek help, are not "crazy". It is they who do NOT believe they have a problem, who are truly sick.
Moral of this sad, but true tale: None.
Forgive me for this rant, my friends.
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