Accounting

One thing most people don’t know about me—even {D}—is that back in the day, when computers were still new, I worked as a forensic auditor on embezzlement cases. I loved it. I was damn good at it. I used to be able to ten-key with both hands at the same time, doing different numbers. That’s how sharp I was. Then my husband fucked our nanny, and I became a stay-at-home mom. Life detour. But I’d go back to accounting in a heartbeat. Nobody respects people who can really dig through numbers without a computer anymore, but whatever.

So why the fuck am I talking about accounting? Because the last few days I’ve been obsessing over the financial records of the State of Vermont. Yeah, I know. Yikes. But the puzzle keeps me hooked. Vermont is a bit sketch. Sub-accounts inside sub-accounts, datasets leading you almost to the answer, but never quite there. And then you have find the other dataset. I’ve never done government before, so maybe it’s just a thing. Bureaucracy bureaucrating.

I am enjoying it--a little too much, because part of me knows it isn’t healthy. I mean, I’m basically a few degrees of Kevin Bacon at this point. I know how to solve it and prove it. But honestly—what do I even care? I don’t need the information. I just want to solve the puzzle to prove I can. 

Which brings me to something else I want to prove. No one responded to my last post—even though I know a couple of you read it. I keep wondering why you’re here. Sometimes it feels like I’m writing to you about a shared experience. The {D} World Experience™️, the lies and his generalized bullshit  

And speaking of {D}—let’s be clear. He’s a psychopathic, alcoholic, narcissistic, philandering, violent, cocky, rat-bastard rapist. And you can quote me on that. On top of everything else, he’s a fucking pansy who is afraid of standing on the precipice of change. Hell, he can't even fight like a man, he only hurts women now. But here’s the kicker: we all still protect him. Even me, strangely   At this point, I’m actually trying to protect him from himself. I know that sounds insane but one of us has to get him the help at some point. Teach the old dog some new tricks, if you will, because pickling his liver and brain doesn't seem wise. 

I’ve asked for one thing through every possible legal route (short of actual charges): rehab. Not money. Not payback. Just that he get the psychological help he so clearly needs. Because right now he’s a dangerous drunken assclown.

Yes, I wanted him out of the AG’s office. He used that position to cover his ass whenever he got in trouble. And for once in his life, I want the trouble to stick. If this hasn’t changed him as a human being, I don’t know what to say. I hope it has.

And the irony? Post-apocalypse, {D} once told me I was unstable. I said something like, “Hey kettle, I’m pot—and you’re black.” Because, yeah, no shit I was unstable. But you’re an alcoholic serial rapist. Let’s remember what we’re really dealing with here. That man is not sane. He’s just really good at pretending he is. I, myself,  don't even bother trying to feign sanity. 

PS If I could put all of the data analysis and data collection I have put into this website on my resume, I would be making so fucking much more money than I am right now. Damn shame and kind of a waste