I have to be in court this morning. No, nothing criminal, just the final inquest determining ownership of my house. Thanks to paperwork fuckups when my parents got divorced, ownership of the house was cloudy. Being both of them have been dead more than a decade, this had to go before a judge. Through no fault of mine, this has taken up over a year of my time and thousands of dollars to straighten out. (Thanks pop, just another item on a long list of shit you left for me to straighten out. Hopefully, a day might come when your dead hand stops reaching up and throwing me a curve every couple years. Prick.)
Anyway I gotta see the judge this morning. Good thing is, if it doesn't go my way, they won't be dragging me out in handcuffs. Still, I hate going to court. Comes from my days of bad behavior when there was a really good possibility I could have been shipped off to jail. (When I was dealing with my PTSD, I spent 3 years with a spoon up my nose, swimming inside a bottle of Jack Daniels', and did some really dumbass shit.)
So, in a couple hours I'm gonna suck it up, put on my best English suit, and go see the judge. Hopefully, my mouthpiece did everything right and I'll walk out with a valid deed to my property. If you don't see me here later today, you'll know it didn't go my way and they had to pry my hands from hizzoner's throat. Heh ... (Don't worry, Mrs. F will be there for adult supervision.)
Addendum: If you own a home there are two words you should become familiar with. 'Title Insurance'. Take it from me, it's worth it.
Well, we sat in the courtroom for 3 hours. Good lord what a collection of lawyers. The Mrs. and I both said we feel like we need a shower after we got out of there. The judge finally called my mouthpiece into chambers and he came out 5 minutes later with a judgment in our favor. Yay!!!! Why the fuck did I have to be there in the first place? Just came back from celebrating at our friend Guy's place on the way home.