Hastened Grendel’s demise by separating him from his FIV+ brother. I was just so worried about biting off more than I could chew in my new sit-down life, that I made this grave error of adopting only 1 cat. Seriously, "If it weren't for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.” I should go check on him, maybe adopt him.
Arguing for my independence with my trust lords has gotten really old, really fast. See, I’m like a poor man’s Brittany Spears: all my money is in a special needs trust, dispensed as need be by my Trustees: Gil Roth and Peter Johnson. Gil, I’ve been friends with since St. John’s. Peter does this for a living, & cuts me a world of always legal and ethical slack. More tomorrow. Nighty-night.