Boots + Heels = The Devil
One of my maternity consignment shop finds last month was a pair of Gap cords in light khaki. The tag reads "long and lean," neither of which can be used to describe me. I decided I could either spend the money (and time) to get them hemmed, or I could spend the money on a pair of brown boots (with heels). This past weekend, while at Target with my mother, I found The Perfect Pair of brown boots (with heels), marked down to $10. Score.
Having been wearing said brown boots (with heels) since 8:15 this morning, I can honestly say, I wish I'd just had the fucking pants hemmed. The money I saved is irrelevant when I consider the cost of the bunion surgery I'm now going to need. Ow. Owwwwwwwwww.
So I went to court this morning--this time for the restraining order I hope to get against db. Yesterday afternoon, I got a fax from Super Lawyer including db's motion for continuance, as Super Lawyer had a prior engagement.
Fuckin' A.
I went to court fully prepared to argue against db's motion for continuance--(1) he was served the day after I filed the ex parte, so he's had two weeks to file a motion for continuance; (2) Super Lawyer didn't bother to file the motion until the day before the hearing, which was a federal holiday and the courts were closed (and he damn sure knew this); and (3) continuing this bullshit won't change the facts, but will only waste the court's time (not to mention mine). But, go figure, Super Lawyer didn't show, and just sent his stupid client to tell the judge, "my lawyer couldn't be here." The judge rolled her eyes and gave me a sympathetic look and said "his lawyer's not here, he's entitled to at least one continuance, I have to give it to him." Fine, whatever. By the time we go back in two weeks, he'll be in jail, anyway.
God willing.
I'm starting to feel like I'm chasing my tail. Not only do I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing at work, I no longer know what the fuck I'm doing at home, either. I feel like all I do is run amok between court appearances, doctors' appointments, and the like. I don't know whether I'm coming or going.
Since Bob had an appointment with the shrink's office this morning, and it was the appointment I rescheduled since I had to go to court the last time he had an appointment scheduled, I sent Ben in my stead. She basically told him that since I owe them $500 for her useless court appearance, they wouldn't be providing any more services for Bob other than the bare minimum (i.e., refilling his prescriptions). Meaning they have no intention of referring Bob to their in-house therapist. Sooo...guess it's time for me to give them a big old "fuck you" and find someone else. I've been wanting to, anyway--for a good year or more now--but because finding a good child psychiatrist is hard and finding one who accepts your insurance is downright impossible, I've stuck with these idiots. But if they're going to deny my child care because they think I owe them for a bullshit witness fee that I never agreed to pay, they can suck my fat one. I don't care if we haven't met our deductible yet--I'd rather pay someone else $250 than pay them one more fucking red cent.
And I'm asking everyone to cross their fingers for my husband, because he's put himself on the market. For a new job, that is. He's got his eye on something that isn't worth much more than his current job, salary speaking, but the hours are stable (i.e., it's a day job--8:00-4:00) and he thinks it'd be worth it to get a foot in the door and get the fuck away from the popcicle stand that is his current employer. As long as he wouldn't end up losing money on the deal (it's a helluva commute and who knows what they charge for insurance), I'd be all for it.
If he did get a job with this company, that would mean several things--(1) we'd need a new car. Or at least a newer used car. His wouldn't handle the commute for very long, and we won't be able to transport both kids in it anyway, because there's only one working seatbelt in the back. (2) I'd most likely be responsible for dropping off both kids in the morning. Which I think wouldn't really be a big deal--I think I could move my start time back by half an hour and as long as I still get my shit done, bossman won't mind. (3) Because of #2, we'd have to get our collective ass out of bed a good 45 minutes to an hour earlier than we're used to. Blech. (4) Because I'd be the only "local" parent, I'd probably be responsible for any and all early pickups and/or doctor visits for the kids. Again, I'm willing to hoe that row if it means my husband could eventually overthrow me as the breadwinner. Totally.
In other news, I hear Gee-Dub is planning another "tax break" in another misguided effort to "stimulate the economy," and will likely be sending us a check in the not-too-distant future. I was on the receiving end the last time Gee-Dub did this, and like Louis Black said, all it did was "remind (me) how fucked (I was)." I don't think this time will be any different, but I'm certainly not going to sneeze at a check for a grand or more--especially as I sit here contemplating and trying to save for my self-funded maternity leave. Hey, there's a thought, Mr. President--how about mandatory paid maternity leave? Oh, you're right--it makes much more sense to just throw money out to the masses when things get tight. Silly me. That's why you're the Commander in Chief and I'm just some working class slob!
Shove over, y'all--this handbasket ain't big enough for all of us.
Having been wearing said brown boots (with heels) since 8:15 this morning, I can honestly say, I wish I'd just had the fucking pants hemmed. The money I saved is irrelevant when I consider the cost of the bunion surgery I'm now going to need. Ow. Owwwwwwwwww.
So I went to court this morning--this time for the restraining order I hope to get against db. Yesterday afternoon, I got a fax from Super Lawyer including db's motion for continuance, as Super Lawyer had a prior engagement.
Fuckin' A.
I went to court fully prepared to argue against db's motion for continuance--(1) he was served the day after I filed the ex parte, so he's had two weeks to file a motion for continuance; (2) Super Lawyer didn't bother to file the motion until the day before the hearing, which was a federal holiday and the courts were closed (and he damn sure knew this); and (3) continuing this bullshit won't change the facts, but will only waste the court's time (not to mention mine). But, go figure, Super Lawyer didn't show, and just sent his stupid client to tell the judge, "my lawyer couldn't be here." The judge rolled her eyes and gave me a sympathetic look and said "his lawyer's not here, he's entitled to at least one continuance, I have to give it to him." Fine, whatever. By the time we go back in two weeks, he'll be in jail, anyway.
God willing.
I'm starting to feel like I'm chasing my tail. Not only do I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing at work, I no longer know what the fuck I'm doing at home, either. I feel like all I do is run amok between court appearances, doctors' appointments, and the like. I don't know whether I'm coming or going.
Since Bob had an appointment with the shrink's office this morning, and it was the appointment I rescheduled since I had to go to court the last time he had an appointment scheduled, I sent Ben in my stead. She basically told him that since I owe them $500 for her useless court appearance, they wouldn't be providing any more services for Bob other than the bare minimum (i.e., refilling his prescriptions). Meaning they have no intention of referring Bob to their in-house therapist. Sooo...guess it's time for me to give them a big old "fuck you" and find someone else. I've been wanting to, anyway--for a good year or more now--but because finding a good child psychiatrist is hard and finding one who accepts your insurance is downright impossible, I've stuck with these idiots. But if they're going to deny my child care because they think I owe them for a bullshit witness fee that I never agreed to pay, they can suck my fat one. I don't care if we haven't met our deductible yet--I'd rather pay someone else $250 than pay them one more fucking red cent.
And I'm asking everyone to cross their fingers for my husband, because he's put himself on the market. For a new job, that is. He's got his eye on something that isn't worth much more than his current job, salary speaking, but the hours are stable (i.e., it's a day job--8:00-4:00) and he thinks it'd be worth it to get a foot in the door and get the fuck away from the popcicle stand that is his current employer. As long as he wouldn't end up losing money on the deal (it's a helluva commute and who knows what they charge for insurance), I'd be all for it.
If he did get a job with this company, that would mean several things--(1) we'd need a new car. Or at least a newer used car. His wouldn't handle the commute for very long, and we won't be able to transport both kids in it anyway, because there's only one working seatbelt in the back. (2) I'd most likely be responsible for dropping off both kids in the morning. Which I think wouldn't really be a big deal--I think I could move my start time back by half an hour and as long as I still get my shit done, bossman won't mind. (3) Because of #2, we'd have to get our collective ass out of bed a good 45 minutes to an hour earlier than we're used to. Blech. (4) Because I'd be the only "local" parent, I'd probably be responsible for any and all early pickups and/or doctor visits for the kids. Again, I'm willing to hoe that row if it means my husband could eventually overthrow me as the breadwinner. Totally.
In other news, I hear Gee-Dub is planning another "tax break" in another misguided effort to "stimulate the economy," and will likely be sending us a check in the not-too-distant future. I was on the receiving end the last time Gee-Dub did this, and like Louis Black said, all it did was "remind (me) how fucked (I was)." I don't think this time will be any different, but I'm certainly not going to sneeze at a check for a grand or more--especially as I sit here contemplating and trying to save for my self-funded maternity leave. Hey, there's a thought, Mr. President--how about mandatory paid maternity leave? Oh, you're right--it makes much more sense to just throw money out to the masses when things get tight. Silly me. That's why you're the Commander in Chief and I'm just some working class slob!
Shove over, y'all--this handbasket ain't big enough for all of us.
posted by Mitzi Green at 11:47 AM
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