Ugh, Tom. I have no advice, but lots of hugs for you.

Can you give yourself permission to just cut the conversation short if she starts a fight?

Can you give yourself permission to just cut the conversation short if she starts a fight?

This is probably the best advice for a bad situation. I'm sorry you have to deal with that, Tom.

Is "don't get into a fight" an option? Like just be maddeningly zen and polite and keep changing the subject when she's objectionable?

I wish I had an answer for you, Tom. When my dad was alive, I'd stare for way too long at Father's Day cards. There never were "I'm sorry you sucked" cards. I think all you can do is treat it as a meaningless exercise.

Police are investigating a very strange crime at a gated lake resort community about 90 miles from Atlanta. The headless body of an elderly man was found in his garage and his wife is missing. The police are treating the wife's disappearance as a kidnapping. Commenters on stories keep saying, "Why don't they think the wife did it?" If an 87-year-old decapitated her husband and went on the run with his head, we'd be talking Supernatural rather than CSI.

It's not a laughing matter, but when the ME said that the man was probably killed by a blow to the head, the newspeople stumbled over saying, "He says that because, well, there's no cause of death on the body so it had to be something that happened to the head."

Apologies to those seeing this repeated from fb, but I'm too damned loopy from Too Much and too little food today:

It is DONE.* 4 years ago, I spent 5 months chemically stripping 80 years of paint off of the banister, 53 spindles and 3 posts. Scraping, peeling, scrubbing. It was revolting and satisfying. Starting this February, I sanded down the whole thing. I now own 4 different types of sanders/grinders. Then it was scrubbing it all down, picking a stain combo. Stain, stain in poly, a golden tinted floor varathane, followed by a coat of super-hard-finish varathane floor finish on all three posts and the handrails. (It was a custom job, clearly! Had to be, some parts took color differently.) Then prime all (very thirtsty) 53 spindles. And finally, paint all 53 of those spindles. And that's all done Done DONE! (barring the cats brushing up against wet paint tonight.)

And you know what? No modesty here, it is fucking beautiful. It was a lot of work and exercised every bit of patience I contain and then some. ** I had to learn a lot, and I was going all on faith that there was good wood under there to be revealed and put on display. And that I wouldn't fuck it up, which given my track record with manual labor, is no sure thing. ***

But staring up at it now, I did good. It's something I'm proud of.

Also, I clearly have a brush problem.

*I've still got tiny touch-ups to do, blips only I might notice. And to repaint the wall where I fumbled the stain brush one night, and trim up the wall paint where they merge with the walls, etc. But all little things, a few minutes, not hours spread over days.

** Sorry, not for hire. I could only manage this level of focus and dedication for something I see everyday and OWN. [ed: this was directed at some of my local friends who have been teasing that they want me to do theirs.]

*** Well, I did ruin more than a few manicures and pedicures. And my working schlub clothes have more than a few paint or stain stains. (I swear I got more paint on me and splatters/fumbles tonight than in any of the months spent on this in the past. Homestretch euphoria? )

Very exciting, Sara!

Sorry, Tom. Good luck. Maybe next time just mail a card and don't call?

Good stuff, Burrell!

Good lord, Ginger. What a thing.

I'm sorry you are in that situation, Tom. Can you not think about it until it's upon you? I know that's not easy to do and maybe not actually helpful, but it would be nice if whatever unpleasantness tomorrow brings didn't bleed over into today.

Way to go, sarameg!

I like -t's suggestion, Tom, and also? Have a script. When it deviates in a negative fashion from script, return to script until script is done and decamp.