'Ten four" as y'all probably know is a part of a language, known in the
nomenclature of "the ten codes". Like, "what's your twenty? - is used (over
the radio) to inquire as to one's location. It should more properly be
called out "what's your TEN-Twenty" but that'd be pedantic and besides, the
one we're talking about today, the ole 10-4, just means affirmative. Yes.
And that's where we're at. No longer stuck in limbo.
It was interesting, to say the least, that the juxtaposition of events all
pointed to this one date, today, Lu's court date for county building code
violations (criminal charges! The naughty girl) the deadline for signing
our loan modification (Chase finally chased down somebody to give it the go)
and my missing daughter's birthday. She'd have turned 14 today. She's a
big part of the reason we stayed here so long, no doubt about it, and having
all these juxtapositions hit on her birthday? Well it gives a fellow pause,
it does.
See, it was interesting, because Lu refused to sign the papers. Why pay
fines to live like she does? Even in California it makes no sense. She's
outta there, vacated the premises, until all this crap gets sorted out
(literally) and has she has a nice place all lined out in town, and a job.
So she's not going to sign the document the bank wants, until she gets a
chance to talk to a judge and find out what the county wants. Not quite a
catch-22, more like a catch-10-4. Which is a good thing, I guess. Because
the county backed way off this morning, she did sign the papers, they did
go in the mail, I dropped them in myself, and we're all set.
We did have to cross off one line in the modification agreement, about
"occupying and not condemned", since she's no longer "occupying" and I'm
just sort of caretaking, but then I included all kinds of supporting
documentation, complete with pictures and arrows pointing to where I think
the evidence lays, and I'm sure, I think, they'll get the picture. The
smart thing to do at this time is just counter-sign and get this hairball
out of their system, but if they're dumb, they'll delay and "lose papers",
again. At this point, I'm not too worried about it, one way or the other.
If they finally kick me out of here, I'll end up somewhere good, I know
that.
For now, I'm stayin'. You can picture me in my shotgun shack, teetering on
the edge of civilization and rockin' in my rocking chair, my rifle on my
knees, my thoughts on the breeze, or wherever I pleeze.
('scuze me. I gottta sneeze. I'm allergic to bad poetry.)
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