Ok, more going personal than you care for…

My brother died a few months ago. Today was the first day of his Estate Sale, which is a term you don’t expect to be assigned to a 50-year-old

All of his stuff is up for sale. Everything. Tables. Paper towels. Cloves of garlic. Copies of Prevention magazine.

And, I have to ask the “Guy” if I want his bookshelves or coffee table or forks or DVDs or paper towels.

He was my brother. Shit. My brother.

But, there’s a dollar price… Which I can’t afford. Plus, frankly, I always Hated that horrible armchair. And, my garage is already full. Where would I put your stuff? Why did you die? Why?

So, I have to ask the “Guy” for stuff that my brother would have happily given me. Like his comic books from 1978. And his High School Algebra II workbook. Or his One Act Play from 1980, or that copy of 1998’s Maxim magazine with Jessica Alba.

But, now I have to ask for it, or actually pay for it.

So, you see, kind of a rough week for me.