Cool, almost cold.

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The weather site I use is saying it is 85, and that will be the high.  Inside is reading 78.  Fans are going, as usual.  Just one ac going upstairs and one in mom's room.  The high wool socks, plus pj bottoms, the warm winter ones, and a thicker T-shirt on.  No matter.  I am chilly.  I am at least turning the fan down.

Mother wanted to talk.  No.  I just got up.  She said she has called around, couldn't find a place.  We will talk, tomorrow.  She will go, somewhere.  I will begin looking too.  If I have to have the courts help her get somewhere, I'll do that.  She can't stay.  I'm selling as soon as I get a decent bid, for one thing.

No more food will be brought into this house.  I may even throw out what I have.  This isn't negotiable.  She won't be allowed to live off me.  All I need to do is find a place she can afford the rent at.  I'll cover first and deposit.  Might have to just get a room, or have roommates.  Rent sucks these days.  Or, a nursing home.

She says she called those too.  She didn't call them all.  Though, maybe she is on a bad people list for institutions?  Who knows these days.  Yes, we will find her a place.  There isn't really an option.  I honestly wish it could be otherwise.  I simply can't afford her, not sure what she is doing with her money.  But it's going somewhere else.  And the ingratitude and disrespect?  Won't fly.  She not only won't change, she can't.  Druggies are like that.  That must be where her money goes, and some of my goods.

Yeah, she will be out, one way or another, by the end of the month.