Your Mid-Week Update for 08/21/19

New jobs, new house, new names. New life. Not in that order.

Like I said, starting over is really just a pile of paperwork. A few hundred bucks to change our names – though there’s still a waiting period. Meanwhile, we’ve contacted the company who sold us the house and we’re paying for a cleaning crew to get it ready to sell. They don’t think they’ll have to disclose anything to potential buyers which will help. No one wants to knowingly live in a murder house.

I’m sure there’s someone out there who does but will that person be willing to spend what we’re asking? Unlikely.

While I’ve been looking for jobs in my field, James has been contemplating a career change. He can’t exactly just jump back into being a police officer. But that’s all he’s known for the last 15-odd years. I think he should try for a job elsewhere in the criminal justice sector. He clearly loves it beyond using his position of authority to help me get away with murder. He’ll have to make that decision though. I have to worry about quitting my old job, finding a new one, and getting my “ward” enrolled in a new school with a new identity. Telling everyone she’s my ward has been a lot easier than saying she’s my husband’s daughter from a previous fling that we inherited after the woman died.

I let Casey pick out her name and we’re shopping for schools in the same area as the houses we’re looking at. Though we can register her late, I’d like to get her settled and in school as quickly as possible. High school will be difficult enough for her. But it’s hard to find a new place while we’re dealing with the old one, we may just have to find a rental and go from there.

I can’t exactly start her other education until everything has settled down – too suspicious to stroll into town and start killing strangers – so in the meantime, I’ve been giving her an oral history of serial killers and what not to do.

Here’s one I can share with all of you.

Be kind to your neighbours. It’s fairly common to hear: “oh but they were so nice, how could they be a cold-blooded murderer.” THAT is much nicer than “hello 9-1-1? My shitty neighbour has been acting suspiciously, please come arrest them.”

Neighbours, as a species, suck. There is a familial anonymity that has an intoxicating power. Being able to lie to people’s faces every day about the simplest things, and then call the authorities for the very things that were worth lying about. All from the comfort of your living room window across the street.

This might be based on one particular neighbour who definitely hated me.

I’m sorry I didn’t cut the grass, Betty, I had other things to do that weekend. At least my husband doesn’t spend more time at the office than at home.

What a cliché we are.

But that’s all behind me now.

Here’s to kind, un-nosey neighbours in a new life.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe