Oh good Gawwd.... gay marriage? So NOT! Or ANY marriage! You never know what horrible things will happen!

The telephone rang.

I thought it was one of those calls from the IFES Institut where they ask you about your buying habits, or if you feel 'secure' where you live, and was in the mood to 'talk'.

Uh-uh, Preciousses... it was local gubmint. Regarding Peter.

I freaked out, because I thought he was in hospital yet again, but it was worse.

Juliana at his home sicced a lady on me. Juliana's the main person in the admin office. Me being the only person to talk to regarding Peter. And the lady on the phone was 'gubmint'.

It was about being his Sachverwalter. Someone who manages people's 'things'. And I said, 'What 'things' am I supposed to manage when there is nothing there?'

She wanted to know what bank he had, which I told her. And she said they would transfer it to Gamlitz, and I said 'Ok, but it won't do you much good... they were crazy enough to give him a three thousand Euro overdraw limit, and he always kept it right at the max. Meanwhile the overdraft is 'probably' a third of that.'

Would I OVERTAKE THE RESPONSIBILITY for his debt?

And I said, 'Listen, we were together for thirty five years, but we were NEVER married. I have only 70 per cent of my pension and barely get by, but pay my bills. THAT would be impossible!' I have no responsibility for his fuck-ups, and don'tcha just lurrrv you some banks....

There was lots more... lots. Whether he was really in 'demenz'. Uhhhh... go figure? I did a thumbnail sketch, beginning with three amputations on one leg, the stroke in the supermarket, the two heart attacks...' And the secrecy, and that I NEVER got any honesty from him when it came to his financial situation. And that he suddenly didn't know he was talking to ME last time I saw him. 'Oh, it was diabetes?'

I admire the amount of restraint I've developed over three decades, really... Because twenty years ago, I'd have turned the air PURPLE. She knew... She definitely knew. And I gave her 'Saures'. Which means sour and bitter... Couched in 'polite' terms.

I could always have talked to the four walls about his finances and gotten more answers.... That sickness is so insidious, it defies description.

Otherwise.... I hope I didn't fuck up.

Gawwd... some days you can reminisce and feel all warm and fuzzy...

Well then reality BITES, as they say.