I do have several scary books I might look in...would you like me to do that? I know it would be easier if I could say "twelve days," but it would be BS.

That would rock, thanks. And yes the hivemind truly is fierce. I shall look into the body farm as well as checking out Daniel's link when I get home. You all are fabulous.

Have you eaten, smonster? You should eat.

I ate brunch but probably need to eat again. Greek yogurt, maybe. Easy protein.

Also, I would not give him a key to the house.

Oh, hell, no.

smonster, you are doing a wonderful thing, I wish it weren't making you so exhausted.

And speaking of decomposing corpses, are you all aware of the Virtual Autopsy at the University of Leicester? It's an actual teaching tool, that anyone can use, with a series of 18 cases where you use autopsy information to determine cause of death. Much fun, if you're into that sort of thing.

You have gotten great advice from everyone. I want to warn you against doing something I tend to do, which is catastrophizing. All you have to deal with is what is happening right now, not every possible horrible outcome that could happen. An imagination is not your friend in this case. You have his shit in your house, which is annoying, but you might want to try not to look at it and see it there FOR ONE YEAR. You and Tim are both smart, caring people and you will find a way to work this out. Deal with what is--a troubled guy Tim wants to help (doesn't matter if it's from an old relationship or some dude he met on a bus) and who will need a place to stay. There WILL be a solution to this which works for everyone, and if you start from that place, then the job is just to work with Tim (and Dude) to find that solution. Maybe you can see if anyone you know needs a housesitter. Maybe you can find a short-term rental for cheap. Maybe the Parole Officer will respond better to Dude or Tim than Dude's mom. I know you feel powerless and scared, and that totally is the natural way to feel, but try to see this as solvable problem and approach it from that place.

Ate yogurt and cookies, and watched the season finale of Southland.

Need shower.

Thanks for the support, y'all.

I have nothing practical to add except that as my sister learned recently, parole officers have mothers and girlfriends calling and hassling them all the time and so tend not to be at their friendliest, so fingers crossed that her experience isn't indicative of the likely resolution of all this.

During the earthquake, the main island of Japan shifted eight feet to the East.

Oh, and the Earth wobbled on it's axis four inches.

And our days will be 1.6 microseconds shorter, due to the earth's rotation speeding up.

You guys, I cannot thank you enough for your advice and wisdom and just your general support and threats of ass-kicking. Seriously.

Since my last, long-ass post, I went to the gym having eaten a banana first (I've had no appetite lately, but I know that working out without eating is stupid), and I rode the exercise bike like I was fleeing Dick Cheney with a gun.

I'm sure you can guess what's coming.

I got home, having exhausted myself with only a banana for fuel, and ended up technically not passing out, but so close as to make no difference. Tim made me eggs and toast and gatorade. Then he sat down and told me, without me bringing it up (though it's the only thing on our minds right now) that he is stressed and pissed (at ex's son, not me), and doesn't want him staying here when he gets out of jail.

My problem? I am too soft-hearted and the ideal mark for a con (and the Police Athletic League when they call asking for donations). I said to Tim, "Where is he going to go? He has nowhere to stay." Tim said, "He can sleep in his car. He's NOT staying here."

Steph, I feel for you so much, I don't even have words. I'm just reminded of all the times I've been asked for an inch and ended up giving a mile, because for whatever reason I couldn't walk away.

That's partly it. A lot of it is me; now that I've been pulled into the perimeter of this, I feel like I can't just make this kid sleep in his car. Nevermind the dog.

Was Tim his stepfather at one point? If so I think I can see the impulse, but the extent needs to be reigned juuuuuuust a bit.

Tim was not legally his stepfather, because he and the ex were not married; they lived together for 2 or 3 years, and the kid lived with them (though perhaps not all the time). And the kid's bio father is an asshole. Literally a Hell's Angel, who did some horrific stuff to Tim's ex.

Man, I hate getting pulled into the consequences of so many people's bad choices.

But let me ask, and I am only trying to get full information: had Tim stated that if things don't work out, he wants your house to be offered to whathisface? Is this explicit, or implicit?

That is an excellent question, and since I've been mostly venting here, I didn't actually lay stuff out, did I? No, Tim has never said he wants to offer a our house as a place for ex's son to stay. (In fact, as I said above, as of this afternoon, he said that ex's son is NOT staying with us). My worry is because of his well-intentioned yet vaguely defined desire to "help" the kid. He has a bond with him that isn't exactly paternal, from the time they spent together. And I admire that about Tim.

But the danger of vague statements of wanting to "help" are exactly what causes the give-an-inch-take-a-mile situations. And I fear Tim's compassion leading him to say, sure, crash on our couch until you move to Texas/get a job/get an apartment -- and then he can't find work (which is legitimate around here; he's a welder, and industry is not booming in southwestern Ohio) or an apartment and can't fucking move to Texas, at least not until his probation is up in February 2012.

Your home is your refuge. I can't overemphasize this, esp. as you are not a person who likes or needs to be with people, or touched or out in social situations. Having this person in your home would be like being touched by strangers; it would be like acid eating away at you. This is not ok; it isn't an option. This person has made his own damn bed, and he will have to lie in it.

Oh, my god. Even having the dog here is a transgression so far past my boundaries that I can't cope. (Our dog Kato is NOT HAPPY about it, either. He's ignoring Guest Dog and moping a lot. I'm concerned about him.) She's a good dog (more obedient than Kato in a lot of ways), and sweet, but if I'm ever ready for another dog post-Chloe, I want it to be our decision, not a dog foisted upon us because someone can't get their life together.

When in high dudgeon, it is easy to focus on the potentially awful stuff that hasn't happened yet.

bonny, get out of (continued...)