I shouldn't be blogging. I should be working on a billing records summary for a client. But this particular client is an asshole. And he's been to a wide variety of doctors, hospitals, pharmacies and diagnostic centers in at least 4 states over the past 5 years. The amount of information in the pile on my desk is staggering.

So here I am.

Bob went back to school today following their week-long hiatus. I'm so damn glad he's back there now. It was nice not having to worry about what kind of trouble he might be getting into, but it was a pain in the ass logistically to have him home. Who's going to take off work, who's going to watch him, where's he going to go. The word "clusterfuck" comes to mind.

Friday night, we welcomed my mother in law into our house and left for dinner and a musical ("Rent," one of my favorites). Not halfway into our delicious Thai dinner, MIL called Ben's phone to report there was a cop at the door, accompanied by db, and the cop wanted to speak to me. I advised the cop there was absolutely no way I was allowing db to have visitation for reasons very clearly stated in my motion to modify and my answer to the family access motion db filed. The cop was an ass. He told me "well, you know, you'll probably be found in contempt of court for this." Yes, I'm aware of that. "And you're okay with that?" Yes, I am. And fuck you, by the way. All any of the other cops have ever done is come to my door while db waited in his car, asked me if I'd allow visitation, I say no, they say thank you and leave. This cop wanted to give me junior lawyer lessons. I could hear db in the background and Bob, so I asked in horror, "is he in my house?" The cop said no, he's standing here on the porch with me. "Do you realize I have a protective order, that this man has threatened to kill me, and he's now standing on my porch?" So what, if I decide to rob a bank and take a cop with me, that makes it okay?

What the fuck?

At any rate, they didn't let db take Bob, and although MIL was sufficiently freaked, it didn't ruin our whole evening. The show itself was a little disappointing. This was the third time I'd seen the live stage version, and this performance just wasn't up there. It was a very odd crowd, too--about 98% white, upper-middle class, upper-middle aged, who didn't seem like they would go see a musical about artsy people in New York with AIDS unless they either had season passes to the theatre or someone gave them free tickets. Probably a quarter of the audience left at intermission. The crowd wasn't terribly responsive, and I felt bad for the cast. Plus the sky was threatening rain all night (it was an outdoor venue), it was balls hot, and the sound was pretty bad--the mics the cast wore made their words all sound tinny and sharp and it was very difficult to make out what anyone was saying. Plus, I'd forgotten how depressing the show is.

We ended up leaving about 2 songs from the end, which I felt horrible about--so disrespectful--but I had a feeling it was going to start pouring and I hate trying to get out of crowds. Sure enough, it poured about 2 minutes after we left.

Not a horrible evening, but not the best. But totally the fault of the venue, not the cast. They did a tremendous job. Especially the actors who played "Angel" and "Mimi." They were phenomenal.

Saturday night, Ben and I put Bob to bed and got drunk on our porch. It was the most fun we've had together in a while. I think we're coming out of our slow patch because I'm coming out of my funk somewhat. I think the drugs are kicking in finally. I don't want to kill everyone I see and I didn't freak out in the car this morning on the way to school/work. That's a good sign.

Bob pulled a new one on me yesterday. I'd made him sit in the Naughty Chair for telling me "no" when I asked him to put his toys away, and he was pissed. So he told me "I hate you." That's okay, you don't have to like me, you just have to do what I say. Then he came back with "I'm going to call the policeman and tell him you're being mean to me."

Oh, really?

"You go right ahead, and if you do, you'll be in even bigger trouble than you already are."

Wow. Wonder where he heard that one? I'm sure I have an idea. He's been talking to db on the phone the last few nights, and from bits and pieces I can decipher, I know he's been told how mean it is that mommy won't let him see his daddy. I'm sure he's been fed all kinds of good juicy words. Bob only talks to him until he gets tired of being interrogated, then he says "bye, daddy" and hangs up.

Whatever. According to my Fearless Lawyer, he's talked to db's lawyer/cousin, and learned that said lawyer/cousin is well aware of my motion to modify, but isn't touching it unless db gives him "a wheelbarrow full of money," which he doesn't see happening. I hope db ends up defaulting on that motion, and I can basically ask for anything I want and he can go fuck himself.

I don't care anymore--I gave that asshole more chances than any douchebag of his caliber deserves, and he blew them all. If he won't change, I'll have to change things for him to protect myself and my only child.