Executrix

The job is wearying. You might want to take notes in case it happens to you. First come all the phone calls. Family and friends are, of course, the hardest. But there are also utilities, doctors, life and car insurance, banks and credit cards, and more. In each case, you explain the situation and they express their condolences and tell you that they will send you the necessary paperwork in 7-10 days. After filling out all the paperwork and returning it, you wait 2-3 days and call to make sure they've received everything. Generally, they haven't. In one case, they said all the items I'd faxed at one time didn't arrive. The bank with her checking account wanted a copy of her will, something that wasn't in the list of documents they asked for. I had gone to her branch and done the paperwork with the manager because it was confusing, and even she didn't know that corporate wanted the will. So you fill in all their blanks, trying hard not to mention how many blanks they seem to be working with, personnel-wise. Wait 2-3 days and call to make sure the stuff is in their hot little hands now. Rinse. Repeat. Then you wait for answers. That's where I am now. It's amazing how slowly the wheels of progress turn when companies have to give up money. I suppose I'm not really surprised. I'd like to say a word about this new job title of mine. Since the 1960's our language has changed so that jobs done by either a man or a woman have the same title. Waiter and waitress became server. Steward and stewardess became flight attendant. Even actor and actress, which hung on for quite a while, now seems to use actor exclusively. But don't hold your breath waiting for the legal system to catch up with the times. I cannot be the executor. Well, maybe I could, but I don't have the time or energy for that fight right now. I'm the executrix. The few times these proceedings have made me smile are listening to the people I'm talking to stumble over saying "executrix." I've started telling them, "Just call me Trixie."