I am sick. Okay, there, I said it out loud; it isn’t “just a cold,” or a little bit of stuffiness, but is instead what I think might be a sinus infection. Or something like that. Plus, and get this, I ALSO have pink-eye. It was a lovely weekend at Chez Jones, as you can well imagine. Steve’s back is still bothering him, despite two visits to the chiroQUACKter, Owen decided he needed to puke about 32 times on Saturday, and this…this…cold of mine is pretty much kicking my ass. I think it has been two weeks now and it shows no signs of exiting the body. And God help me if I should need an abortion, because now I wouldn’t be able to since no Federal Funds are allowed to be used to perform one, and private insurance won’t pay for one because it is considered elective surgery. Oops, sorry, I totally forgot I wasn’t going to go there. And I don’t need one anyway, not being in the pregnant way, and if I WAS, I wouldn’t want one, but still. What if I just knew that one more kid would put me over the edge and I might jump off the next bridge handy? Wouldn’t that be considered a fucking medical necessity? Damn it, STILL not going there. ‘Nuff said about that.
So back to the scourge that is dwelling at my house. I am needy, okay? I have PMS something awful, I am sick on top of it and my one eye just barely opened enough to see out of by last night due to the whole pink-eye thing (as a note, I had never had it before, and feel like I need to offer up mea culpas or something because when Hannah and Eli had it a couple of weeks ago, I was all like, “Put the drops in and stop your whining, it isn’t that bad.” But you know, God was laughing at me because it really is kind of “that bad.” No wonder they were both so miserable!), and wouldn’t you know, this is the worst time in the world to be a wreck. With Steve’s back still bothering him, he isn’t being very loving and supportive and making me fucking cups of tea like I think he should be (selfish, I know), and I can’t be gone from work at all because the other person in the office is on vacation. Which, incidentally, means that of course (even though she has known AND been telling her customers that she will be gone this week for a month) every.single.person needs her right this minute. Which also means that at one point today I had all three lines lit up and holding and well. It’s just one of those days, really. A Monday.
I had another one of those people call me today, too, who got pulled over and ticketed for no insurance and could I just, you know, “backdate the policy? Even though it is ‘technically’ wrong? To help a guy out?” and I was just kind of done at that point. I was nice to him, because I get paid to be, but in a very nice way I said,”well, it isn’t just “technically wrong,” it’s factually illegal, so even if you were someone really important, I just can’t ‘help a guy out,’ but hey, thanks for calling.” I should no longer be surprised, though; people who consistently drive without insurance even though is is also illegal are not typically the kind of people who would think twice about wanting you to do something nefarious to save their ass.
Of course, it’s Monday, so I have yet another story to tell about Crazy-Crackhead’ woman and Backyard Hoebag. On Saturday morning, the fun started bright and early when The Woman came over to see if I had two cigarettes. Yes, I did so I gave them to her. About 30 minutes later she came over for just one more, and sure, I have been out of smokes before so I gave her another, even though I was inwardly seething. Then she came over for the landlord’s phone number; I actually DO have it, but Eli was on the phone downstairs and I didn’t want to go down there and make him get off the phone and find the number and all that. Plus, it’s in the phone book, right? So I told her no, I don’t, I am sorry. TWO hours later, Backyard Hoebag comes over (and god help me but I can’t tell if she is pregnant or just really carrying her considerable poundage right in her belly) all sort of pissed off at me because The Woman locked herself out of her house and Crazy Crackhead was gone and I am a terrible neighbor for not offering to help her, and then hey, can we use your phone? I just almost had to laugh. For one thing, if The Woman had told me the very first time that she was locked out of the house, I could have sent Sam over to crawl through her window; we have done that for her one other time, easy peasy. For another thing, I am sorry but it kind of isn’t my job to take care of her. I get that we are neighbors, I really do, but damn it. We have given them foil and cigarettes and sugar and plates full of leftovers and have let her use our phone at least a dozen times and got her into her house when she’s locked herself out; why does this have to be my fucking problem? LAST “another thing,” what gives Backyard Hoebag the right to come over to my house and start yelling at me for being a bitch? Bah.
Sorry. I am clearly not in any shape to be writing a blog post. My head is pounding, my nose hurts so bad that when I blow it, tears spurt up into my eyes, and then that one eye is not so swollen but still looks pretty gross and red. I needed to rant, okay? Perhaps tomorrow I will be a little more thoughtful in my ranting, but I am pretty sure I just needed to get it all out there. After all, there are still 6 hours before bedtime to be got through, and I would rather vomit all the crap out on your unsuspecting readers than take it out on my poor family. Feel free to laugh and shrug; I am sure I will look at this post tomorrow and be all sorts of embarrassed and maybe delete it, but for this moment, I am simply signing off.