Brick Walls
That's what I've been hitting all day in my work--brick walls. Big ones. Big ones that say "no, I'm sorry, I can't help you, you'll have to call about 30 more people before you finally get an answer to your question." Big ones that say "no, a person can't just get a salvage title for a car they wreck 2 hours after purchasing it, even if the original title was in the glove box of said car and is now nowhere to be seen." Argh, argh, argh.
At least my personal life appears to be mellowing.
It was a really, really good weekend. Ben worked Friday night and I'm not sure if it was the hellish work week or the fact we didn't turn on the AC in our house until it got to about 85 degrees inside, but by the time Ben returned home around 9:15, I was wiped the fuck out. I tried to stay awake, but once the central air started to cool down the blistering pink stucco inferno, I started to lose consciousness on the sofa. Around 11:00 he told me to give up and come to bed. I did so, willingly. Bob let us sleep til around 8:30 Saturday morning. Ben left just after 10 for some dumb track meet and Bob and I went to the grocery store. We got home just in time for lunch. I thought my parents, who were supposed to come down for a visit, would have been there by noon, but they weren't. Around 1:00, I called them only to discover they weren't planning to leave their place for another hour--putting them to our house around 3pm. So much for their entertaining us (okay, Bob) while Ben was at work. So I suggested to Bob we go to the park. "Let's ride our bikes." I don't have a bike, Bob. "You can ride one of Ben's. He has two." Yes, I'm aware of that. One is a mountain bike with those funky pedals you need special shoes for, and the other is a BMX bike I'm sure he would probably divorce me over in the event I damaged it. But screw it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?
So I chose the BMX bike for its simplicity of design. I hauled it out of the basement into the back yard, and realized the seat is about 3 inches higher than my nether regions would prefer. But adjusting the seat meant going to look for a tool, and possibly not being able to put it back in the right spot, and irritating my husband and my son, who was not-so-patiently waiting for me to be ready to go. Again, screw it. I hopped on and we were off.
Anyone familiar with BMX understands there's no real need for said bikes to have nice, cushy seats. Ben's bike is no exception to this rule, so for the entirety of the ride, it felt like I had a large piece of raw steel shoved up my hoo-ha. Add to the mix the fact I haven't been on a bike in a good 10 years and have shitty balance on foot. I don't know who I was more nervous about falling into oncoming traffic, Bob or myself. But we managed to make it to the park in two pieces (with bikes intact), and turns out a couple of Bob's friends from preschool were also there, so it was a good time. By the time we rode home, I was convinced I would never sit down again.
My parents were there when we got there--I'd apparently left my keys in the front door lock--and Ben arrived shortly thereafter. We (Ben) grilled steaks and the parents hung out until about 45 minutes after Bob went to bed. It was overall a nice day.
Sunday should have been a lazy day, but there are no lazy days when you're 4. Bob was bored and a little whiny, but all in all, he kept his cool. No tantrums, no fits, no trips to the Naughty Chair. Unreal.
It's weeks like this last one that give me hope for the future. Hope that Bob isn't really a basket case with severe mental deficiencies (like his father, and like his father seems to hope he has). Hope that maybe, just maybe, he's just a very little kid who has been through a shitty deal and will grow out of this aggression and anger and anxiety.
I think tomorrow we're going to have a movie night. I'm planning to take Bob to the movies as soon as I pick him up from preschool (stopping for a lovely McMeal on the way, of course) and maybe, just maybe, hitting Target on the way back. I've got a skirt I need to return. Maybe, just maybe, Bob will cooperate.
There's a story in the local paper today about a legal secretary at a firm I almost went to work for a few years back. Her disgruntled ex-boyfriend showed up at her office and, as she was getting out of her car and walking to the door, shot her in the face and killed her. Then he drove off and shot himself. Fucking assholes. If you want to kill yourself, more power to you--but leave everyone else out of it.
I have to admit, after reading that, I drafted a will. Because you never know when some psycho motherfucker will make good on an old promise.
At least my personal life appears to be mellowing.
It was a really, really good weekend. Ben worked Friday night and I'm not sure if it was the hellish work week or the fact we didn't turn on the AC in our house until it got to about 85 degrees inside, but by the time Ben returned home around 9:15, I was wiped the fuck out. I tried to stay awake, but once the central air started to cool down the blistering pink stucco inferno, I started to lose consciousness on the sofa. Around 11:00 he told me to give up and come to bed. I did so, willingly. Bob let us sleep til around 8:30 Saturday morning. Ben left just after 10 for some dumb track meet and Bob and I went to the grocery store. We got home just in time for lunch. I thought my parents, who were supposed to come down for a visit, would have been there by noon, but they weren't. Around 1:00, I called them only to discover they weren't planning to leave their place for another hour--putting them to our house around 3pm. So much for their entertaining us (okay, Bob) while Ben was at work. So I suggested to Bob we go to the park. "Let's ride our bikes." I don't have a bike, Bob. "You can ride one of Ben's. He has two." Yes, I'm aware of that. One is a mountain bike with those funky pedals you need special shoes for, and the other is a BMX bike I'm sure he would probably divorce me over in the event I damaged it. But screw it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?
So I chose the BMX bike for its simplicity of design. I hauled it out of the basement into the back yard, and realized the seat is about 3 inches higher than my nether regions would prefer. But adjusting the seat meant going to look for a tool, and possibly not being able to put it back in the right spot, and irritating my husband and my son, who was not-so-patiently waiting for me to be ready to go. Again, screw it. I hopped on and we were off.
Anyone familiar with BMX understands there's no real need for said bikes to have nice, cushy seats. Ben's bike is no exception to this rule, so for the entirety of the ride, it felt like I had a large piece of raw steel shoved up my hoo-ha. Add to the mix the fact I haven't been on a bike in a good 10 years and have shitty balance on foot. I don't know who I was more nervous about falling into oncoming traffic, Bob or myself. But we managed to make it to the park in two pieces (with bikes intact), and turns out a couple of Bob's friends from preschool were also there, so it was a good time. By the time we rode home, I was convinced I would never sit down again.
My parents were there when we got there--I'd apparently left my keys in the front door lock--and Ben arrived shortly thereafter. We (Ben) grilled steaks and the parents hung out until about 45 minutes after Bob went to bed. It was overall a nice day.
Sunday should have been a lazy day, but there are no lazy days when you're 4. Bob was bored and a little whiny, but all in all, he kept his cool. No tantrums, no fits, no trips to the Naughty Chair. Unreal.
It's weeks like this last one that give me hope for the future. Hope that Bob isn't really a basket case with severe mental deficiencies (like his father, and like his father seems to hope he has). Hope that maybe, just maybe, he's just a very little kid who has been through a shitty deal and will grow out of this aggression and anger and anxiety.
I think tomorrow we're going to have a movie night. I'm planning to take Bob to the movies as soon as I pick him up from preschool (stopping for a lovely McMeal on the way, of course) and maybe, just maybe, hitting Target on the way back. I've got a skirt I need to return. Maybe, just maybe, Bob will cooperate.
There's a story in the local paper today about a legal secretary at a firm I almost went to work for a few years back. Her disgruntled ex-boyfriend showed up at her office and, as she was getting out of her car and walking to the door, shot her in the face and killed her. Then he drove off and shot himself. Fucking assholes. If you want to kill yourself, more power to you--but leave everyone else out of it.
I have to admit, after reading that, I drafted a will. Because you never know when some psycho motherfucker will make good on an old promise.
posted by Mitzi Green at 4:49 PM
1 Comments:
Yeah, we just had an attempted kidnapping in our parking lot during lunch hour. Fortunately, someone scared him off before the guy was able to force my co-worker into his car. Who knows what he had in mind to do to her...
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