[ | Attitude |
| | exhausted | ] | Today has truly been one of those days.
Jenn made a doctor's appointment for this AM yesterday for her mounting problems handling things after the wreck. Her sister couldn't take her for various reasons, so I had to. No biggie, it was at 9:20 and appointments there usually last 15-20 minutes. I'd be a little late, but not more than an hour.
She got out of the office at 10:20, it took far longer than planned. She also needed two new meds, and the school phramacy wasn't opening till noon today for some reason. Okay, fine, we'll wait till CostCo opens and find out if they're too much. If they are, we'll just go back to San Bernardino after noon and I'll just be later. Oh well, needs to be done.
On the way south on the 15, the highway sign says '3 Right Lanes Blocked on jWo at Milliken -- Use Alternate Route'. I'm thinking...what's jWo??? Milliking crosses the 210 and the 10. I figure, I'll check the 210 and see if it looks backed up. If not, I'll take it, since it's our usual road home.
Looks fine, I get on. It was fine...for about half a mile. Then it was a parking lot. Remembering the sign said the three right lanes, I dive over into the carpool lane. I have NO fucking clue how 210 got translated to jWo, but whatever, it'll be okay, we'll be in the farthest lane from the wreck.
It was an overturned big rig. It was in the three LEFT lanes. Typical California highway sign...it's the absolute LEAST help possible. Didn't tell us which road, and told us the wrong location of the accident to boot!
An HOUR later, we passed the wreck and went to CostCo. (It took an hour to cross a mile and a half of highway.) Just for Jenn's amusement, the wreck forced us to sit at the EXACT spot her wreck happened for almost the entire time. Very good for someone getting panic attacks when they so much as PASS the spot. Did I also mention that the morning's coffee had me ready to piss myself by the time we left her school, nevertheless an hour and a half later when we got to CostCo?
We had a 25 minute wait at CostCo for the meds. Picked up the 2-disc Platinum Edition of A Bug's Life for $12.50. Got the meds, headed to San Dimas to get Taco Bell for her before I went in to work. I didn't get anything, the stress had me feeling sick and I was still going to eat my lunch at work.
Got home, and the entire alley behind our house was full of cops and a tow truck. Every cop in La Verne was there, I shit you negative. From what we can tell, they raided the alley. The drug dealers a few houses down were gone, the cops were swarming all over their garage area. They probably raided it thinking it was a chop shop (which it was, they did all sorts of unlicensed mechanic work) and found the dope. They also removed all the junker cars cluttering up our guest parking. These cars had been there for YEARS. I've been in the apartment almost four years, and they pre-date me. So that was great, we were thrilled they cleaned house.
I go upstairs to write in and say I'll be even later, then go back down to leave. A wrecker to the left, a wrecker to the right, both trying to drag trucks with four flat tires up on their beds.
I go back upstairs and just say 'fuck this'.
After awhile, the noise of the wreckers clears, just as I'm telling my manager via IM that I'm not coming in. I'd already put my lunch in the fridge, it was still cold but the ice packs weren't lasting much longer. I was shaky, stressed, starved and generally about to commit murder, suicide, cannibalism, or all three.
I go downstairs. Wreckers are gone, so I bail for work.
Other than the sig alert on the 605 where some chucklehead towing a bigass boat decided to go over the side of the freeway down an embankment just before the 60 onramp (which is my ramp), it was an uneventful drive. ::slapsforehead::
I'm here now. Got here around 3:30. I'm staying till 7:30. At that time I'll decide if I'm going to come in tomorrow and make up the other missed half day or not. I really don't have work, but no one knows that, so I could kill a half day I think. I just don't know if my brain can handle it. Of course, if I -don't- go in, I still have to drive out to the desert then come home Sunday to do a ton of laundry. Either way, it isn't like I'll get any kind of rest or relaxation.
This marks the first week in longer than I can remember that I charted hours on all five work days. That should mean something, but it doesn't mean shit. The best I can hope for, the BEST, is that we make rent and bills if we scrimp and scrape and watch our money closely. That's what I'm working for: barely surviving. Fuck reward, fuck satisfaction, it's all about just surviving so I can go do another week of mind-numbing, painful, tortuous bullshit in order to make another week and so on.
That's me. Mr. Optimism. |