That OLD car was MY OLD CAR.

And I know you’ve got to have been sick of looking at that ugly old car. But it was in a space still designated to me. And it was mine. And everything in it even if it just seemed like trash to you. [Mrs. L, perhaps you recall my mentioning to you, sometime in the last nine months, with tears, in fact, how those da__ed empty cigarette packages were all I had left of my “disappeared” most recent husby.] I’d still like to look for myself. I know I stated that to you. And I know you heard me because you joked about finding a $100 bill. And I know that when you first asked if I’d ever thought about just letting someone haul it off, I stated to you very clearly that I had and I knew I could get a t least $50 for it. I still believe that’s definitely true. But trust me; I’m not stewing about $50. Let me make THIS very clear. I am stewing over, once again, someone in my life deciding for me, what I do, and do not need. I bet YOU don’t allow that very easily in your life.