And I’m kinda dreading it, to be honest. My Meeting, lately, has become an increasingly Trumpian place, to the point where I ALMOST no longer feel safe. That’s what I’ll be working, trying, hoping to figure out tomorrow. But not going, which is another option, kinda feels like giving up. And I genuinely HATE that. But going to Central Philadelphia IS a viable option.
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.
Comments
Post a Comment