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The tax law final was hard. Filled with questions like, Julius & Murgatroyd are a married couple under age 65. Julius is retired on permanent and total disability. What is their adjusted gross income limit to qualify for the hardly-ever-used (because never indexed for inflation) Credit for the Elderly or the Disabled?

But I got 94% on it, so you know: Go me.

###

Before I collapsed to watch endless episodes of The Real Housewives of Miami, Season 2—which is simply the best season of The Real Housewives ever made—I forced myself to tromp because exercise.

It was a very grey day.

It wanted to rain, but it did not rain, so the landscape was pregnant with a sense of thwarted desire. Not conducive to photography, so instead I offer you a photograph of golden grove unleaving during day-before-yesterday's drive through the Catskills:



Season 2 of The Real Housewives of Miami is iconic!!! So many vile people! So much bad behavior! What's worst? Aging Brazilian narcissist Adrianna punching foul-mouthed-but-seraphic-appearing model Joanna in the face at a lingerie party/charity event put on by Miami's Boob Doctor to benefit the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation? Or coked-out Nazi-cum-Real-Estate-Developer Thomas Kramer so perfectly blending misogyny & patriarchy at the Dinner Party from Hell?? (Shortly thereafter, Kramer was convicted on a RICO charge.)

Ben always maintained that the real reason Osama bin Laden took down the Twin Towers was because of The Real Housewives.

And you know, I think he just may have been right.

###

Anyway, I have carved out an entire day to play with the Work in Progress. So, that is what I'm gonna do.
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Dreamed the Little Store was reopening!!!!!

And I was thrilled. Except that Ben had already begun selling stuff out of the shop, and the shop was not yet set up for selling stuff, no functioning point-of-sales system, no bubblewrap, no bespoke Slow Burn bags. There was inventory, though—hot sauce and the most cunning miniatures you can imagine, shelves & shelves of them.

Ben had special-ordered a bottle of Marie Sharp's carrot habanero hot sauce (in my never-humble opinion, the finest hot sauce in the world) for an Asian woman, and she was standing there patiently waiting for the order to be processed—except I couldn't process it because no POS system! And I was running around getting more & more hysterical and madder & madder at Ben—how could you put me in this situation??? Throughout my hysteria, the Asian woman remained very calm—and this only made me more hysterical because I kept wondering, What secret judgment is she passing on me???

Part of the dream was our homelife—RTT as a nine- or ten-year-old to whom I kept trying to explain, We can't afford to do this, not yet. But maybe after the Little Store officially reopens...

And on the very top floor of our apartment building lived a painter-cum-magician who had gifted us with multiple fish tanks in which lived the most magical fish! In particular, I remember the elephant fish—they had perfect tiny trunks & pillar-like legs and gills behind their large floppy ears...

###

In other Ben-related news...

The peace lily I took from Ben's apartment after he died (can it really be...?) six years ago appears to be dying itself.

Peace lilies are supposed to be really easy to grow. I have never found them so. They look the same whether you are overwatering or underwatering them: Their leaves develop big brown spots.

Anyway, this particular plant has never done well under my care, and, of course, I fantasized that when Ben's soul fled his body, it took up occupancy in the peace lily, so in essence, I have spent the last six years slowly murdering my feckless X.

It is down to its last four green unspotted leaves now. Should I try to replant it into a smaller pot? Or should I just let it die? Decisions, decisions!

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