Money, money, money

I need to have a meeting with my trustees.  I need to make sure Ed’s resignation gets accepted, and Bill comes on board as Ed’s successor. I need new cognitive recovery gym equipment, like the 3rd version of the HomePod when it comes out; and an iPad mini to read on.  Next year, a new Mac,  a new iPad proper, and headphones for home, and a pair for rolling around with my iPhone.  Film editing software too, Final Cut. Traveling too:  WV, Montreal; where I hope to establish a 2nd, summer home; L.A. and a side trip to Palm Springs to see Scott and the kids.  Maybe Ireland.  The trust needs to be used now; I anticipate dying before this decade of my life wears out; logic says from a stroke, as my brain blood vessels were probably severely weakened in the assault.  I already have a DNR.  I have no heirs; Ciaran & Scott are both semi-wealthy doctors who don’t NEED my money; I’d like to run my wealth out these next few years; enjoy life as much as I can.  For years now, I’ve tried to get the Trust to let me move into the St. James so I may get better cardio by availing myself of the only handicap -accessible residential pool in Philadelphia;  regular cardio should help strengthen my blood vessels in my head.  But the Trust has never agreed with me on this, and so I sit here, waiting to die, hoping my cat dies first, AND after her death God takes me as I don’t create anymore; my life isn’t set up to encourage my achievements anymore.  Surprisingly I’m the opposite of suicidal; Jaime NEEDS me.