Jason and Portia came by to visit yesterday. They both looked good. Jason was a bit more gray, but looked to be in great shape, especially for 49. He was also dressed well in a zip-up sweater and blue jeans. He likes to dress. It inspires me.

Portia looked older but still managed to retain her youthful appearance. She wore a brown turtleneck that they gave her problems about due to the color. She wore a fitted jean jacket over it. I liked it. She wore it well. Jeans and shoes she referred to as her “Auntie Marple” shoes. They didn’t look bad either.

We spoke about a lot — politics, of course. She is so far right-leaning it’s hard to believe. I find it frustrating sometimes because her mind seems made up. Almost like she feels she has to defend her position because she said it. No amount of new information will change her mind. But I’ve learned not to take it personally. I don’t allow our disagreements to come between our relationship. I keep my eye on the bigger picture.

Jason takes a different approach. He goes far enough to see where things are heading. If they’re going in the wrong direction, he brakes. He bails out. Smart man.

We also talked a bit about finances. Jason told me he didn’t have money to invest or save, and that investing feels too risky. The good thing is he is investing through his pension, and he said he has an annuity from his job. I’ll have to research that.

I gave him grief about a house he still has a mortgage on ($500). It’s been sitting empty for five plus years and he is just using it as an expensive storage solution. The current rent he could be charging is $1,800 per month. The way I figure it, he has lost out on about $90,000. He also told me his father has three apartments in disrepair sitting unrented.

We had a good time. Jason has proved to be my most devoted friend. Portia has proved to be my most devoted sister. I appreciate them and love them. Our time was too short.

This was one of the few — maybe the first — visits I’ve had where, at the end of it, it didn’t hurt. What does that mean? Am I now accepting that this is my life? Am I institutionalized? Or is it something else?