When I last wrote, we’d gotten the house cleared, and the painter had begun working. After that, we got new carpet. Let me put in a plug for Empire Today. They were easy, affordable, and did the work the next day, as advertised. We were quite impressed.

Unfortunately, Bub (Rich’s mom) thinks we’re railroading her. Everyone we speak with tells us that she shouldn’t have been living alone as long as she had (she’s 88). That they kept an eye on her. We could see that she was not taking good care of herself. Her primary doctor has written that she has dementia and can’t take care of her finances. However, Bub insists that she was getting along fine, that she gets enough money to live on, and that she wants to go home. Well, home, we keep telling her, must be sold, so that you may have funds with which to live in a nice place and not the shithole you’re in now.

Luckily, the house sold in record time. Ten days after it went on the market, we had an offer. We countered upwards a bit, and they accepted. Bonus: they want only a 30-day escrow. That means that escrow will close before Katy gets out of her current jail stint. She’s still got the three San Diego felonies to contend with, plus the new elder abuse charge in Murrieta. Still, with even just a few days out, visiting her grandma at the nursing home, getting her all upset and worked up… we were worried that Bub, at the time she had to sign the final papers, might balk and fret, “But what’ll happen to Katy?”

Good news: Bub’s broken elbow is as good as new.

Bad news: That means that she is now on private pay. We get a call the day Medicare ended. They need $6,700 today. “So sorry, but we don’t have it. As soon as the house sells, we’ll be paying you in full, as agreed.” She didn’t know what we were talking about. We told her that both the Business Director and the Social Services Director told us, on more than one occasion, with both Rich & me present, that we could just “run up a bill,” and yes there will be late charges, but we’d be thrilled to pay it all in one lump sum when the house sells and we break Bub the hell out of there.

(This nursing home is supposed to be a good place. God help you if you end up in a good one. I wouldn’t wish a bad one on my worst enemy. A thick envelope was mailed to Bub at her place of residence from the nursing home. It contained admissions paperwork that they needed her to fill out and sign. Apparently, instead of walking down the hallway and asking her to fill it out [she broke her left elbow; but she’s right-handed], they mailed the papers to her house, explaining in the cover letter that they hadn’t been able to contact her.)

She’s been to visit the house a couple times now, and she seems resigned to selling it. But we keep hearing, from multiple sources, that she’s very angry with us for all this. She’s so nice to our faces, but as soon as we leave, she’s working with Katy’s boyfriend to counteract everything. On our way back one day we received a call from Bub’s attorney. He’d just spoken with Boyfriend, who said he was calling for Bub, who wanted to know “what her rights were.” Bub told my mom that she wants to revoke Rich’s power of attorney. I wouldn’t be surprised if she disinherited him. Sociopaths are very good at separating their victims from all the people who want to protect them.

We’re planning on moving her to Grossmont Gardens (who everybody says is excellent) on Sunday the 13th. This Sunday we’re going up to try and sell the furniture she won’t be taking with. We’ve got the small antiques, which we’ll sell for the best prices. Whatever’s left goes to Goodwill. We’ve been trying to get Boyfriend to come over and collect the furniture it’s so critical that Katy have. He’s got two more weekends. Problem is, he doesn’t have money for a storage shed, and Bub doesn’t have a checkbook with which to give him money.

On Tuesday, the real estate agent came over with the final papers to sign, and then we went over to the escrow company to sign their papers. So it’s a done deal now. Whew.

Just yesterday evening, I got a call from Bub’s bank. Apparently, they’d gotten a call from the Boyfriend, who said that Bub wanted to withdraw money, but she didn’t have a checkbook and didn’t have any identification*, and what could she do? The banker asked to speak to Bub, and Boyfriend hemmed and hawed something about being outside, and he’d have to call back. I explained briefly about the situation, of which she already seemed to be aware – that’s why she called. I told her Boyfriend has no business with the account, and please to call us again if anything unusual happens. Plug to U.S. Bank. They’ve done a fantastic job of helping us with all this crap.

*She actually doesn’t have any proper I.D., as it turns out. She voluntarily gave up driving shortly after she was widowed. She never drove before, and the few times she tried it she arrived “shaking like a leaf.” So no driver’s license. She never needed to get a state I.D. And she doesn’t have a passport; she’s probably never left the country. This was all a fun surprise when we went to the escrow company: they can’t notarize the signature without I.D. We had to wait for the real estate agent and her boyfriend to arrive, to witness and attest that they both knew her, and both knew the escrow agent. Yikes. That was close.