Friday was a good day. Checked in on my friend in Beachwood and it turns out they have plantar fascitis. Not self-diagnosed but rather they went to the emergency room to find out what was going on. Very glad their siginifcant other was around to take care of them. Helped out my acquaintance in Belmar who requested that I acquire the chain of title for their home and a neighbor's home to figure out the deal with an issue concerning a shared driveway and artesian well. Hopefully I cleared up things but I advised them to lawyer-up and really get things done.
My compression socks arrived and I'm wearing them right now. Either it's the placebo effect, or a sense of novelty, or just their theraputic properties which are helping my right foot feel better. Over the past seven months since my initial Achilles tendon injury, my right foot has bloated up. The sight of it made me feel old and broken so I'm hoping these compression socks are really doing the trick to get rid of the excess fluid in my feet. My left ankle is feeling better after sitting in the high-boy chair at the support group.
Work was bearable except for one job. The job was in Toms River except someone gave me a deed in Brick, one town over, with the same block and lot. Running out the Brick property was a bitch but fortunately the Toms River property was easy-peasy since my direct report told me they had a policy on hand. When I uploaded it to the back office I didn't see anything about a policy nor one being requested, but I noted it anyway in the back office that I was told about there being a policy.

For those of you playing along at home, a policy means a prior owner had title insurance and the property was run back already to reveal the metes and bounds, rights-of-way, easements, and other fun stuff. With a policy less than twenty years old, at least with my employer, one only needs to run out the present owner and copy the exceptions from the policy which enumerate rights-of-way, easements, etc. The correct job was recent, sometime in 2018, and only had a deed. For the back title work I just needed to acquire to old instruments from 1930 and 1931.

Beyond that my friend in Egg Harbor City was going on and on about their non-traditional relationship to me, and I told them to talk with their partners rather than complain to me. Complaining to me is nice, they will get support, but in my humble opinion Egg Harbor City might be making a mountain out of a molehill. My least-kind estimation is they are yelling at the cat because the dog puked on the couch. The cat didn't puke on the couch and the cat isn't inclined to address the dog for the sake of the human, so the human has to take up the issue with the dog. I hope I was firm enough without being an asshole. So many times I've given them good advice (they admit the advice was sound and prevented bad stuff) but they don't want to listen, which is their choice considering they're an adult.

But still it reminds me of my time at the funny farm back in August of 2011 after a suicide attempt. They had me room with some guy who was angry about his wife being in the hospital, saying something he shouldn't have said which made a nurse get him put away. This guy kept going on and on and on about how he was wronged. I tried to help but after a few days I went to the nurse station to complain. After that he seemed to be chastened learning I was there for my own reasons and had to work on myself. Who knows, maybe they outright told him or insinuated as to why I was there which gave him perspective. Just because I seemed sane didn't mean I didn't have a reason to be there.

As for me and my friend in Egg Harbor City, my personal situation weighs upon me despite my putting on a brave face and being selfless with advice and listening to their issues. On Tuesday, driving home after support, they phoned me and ackowledged I'm not emotionally available for anyone.

My day wrapped up with a visit to Shop-Rite for groceries. At the check out there were two girls in front of me, probably early to mid-twenties in age. One was a tall girl with black hair and a slim figure, the other one was a redhead who smiled at me. While I believe right now my heart has the hardness and smoothness of a ball bearing, for a minute I wondered...
God damn my brain's reward system making me partial to redheads. My paternal grandmother had red hair and she was a source of kindness when I was knee-high to a junebug. My paternal grandfather also appeared to have a thing going on with a Mrs. Monahan who was also a redhead, making my think the inclination towards redheaded women could be genetic. Hell, my biological father probably cheated on my biological mother sometime in the early 90's with a woman he only called 'Sargon' (don't ask me why, absolute cringe) who I met once and she had red hair. And from there I probably had that preference reinforced by my brief relationship with Edna LaMontagne-Voegele who I refer to as "la rufulino" on Twitter while tweeting in Esperanto.

I just hope it's a passing fancy or fetish, like how I was into Asian women between the ages of 15 and 25 but grew out of them. Best of all, my aversion to Asian women was reinforced when I learned of the absolute mindfuck pulled on Leah's cousin who married a Japanese woman. The ticking of the Japanese woman's biological clock was loud in her ears, she was down for doing nearly everything with Leah's cousin, they got married whereupon the entire relationshp dynamic changed since she only wanted to pump out babies and Leah's cousin was just a sperm donor. Yeah I know there are white women like that, but I'm a bit biased against Asian women in the relationship department.

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