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Glasses, Nasties, Robberies, and General Babbling
Glasses, Nasties, Robberies, and General Babbling
I am writing this while looking at the screen through my new glasses. The doc said that I had a slight deficiency with my focusing mechanism in my left eye, adding that I could or could not get glasses. I went ahead and ordered them, hoping that it would help in the night driving department, especially since I was told to wear them while reading or driving. And yet the only noticeable difference is the fact that I look as if I should be named Poindexter or something.
Something inside of me is saying that the chick messed up my order when it came to the frame. I don’t remember these frames. Strange, that, eh, but I am seriously having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that I had thought at the time that I looked good in these things. Then again, I probably spent thirty minutes bouncing from display rack to display rack, convinced that I would find the right frames. So who knows. Maybe I had thought this was the look for me.
I’m having a hard time wrapping my head a few things these days. Da Man would be the main thing I can’t seem to understand. We haven’t been getting along. And a big part of it is me, admittedly, because I am tired of nurturing. The girls have had one minor ailment after another lately, and I myself was caught off guard by the snot gremlins. He has a slight case of pneumonia and isn’t well. And he as a grown man is worse than two sick kids. Nasty is the best way to describe him. And I don’t have the tolerance for nasty so I find myself being nasty first. I am such an adult sometimes in dealing with others. *snort*
But I seem to be operating on a different set of rules than everyone else around me. For example, I don’t know what it’s like to sit on the couch and not be able to stay awake because there is always someone who is more than willing to keep me going. In the rare event that I am tempted to hit my internal snooze button, I get up and do something, anything, to stay awake. And, because I am a control freak, I assume my motivational ways should be everyone’s motivational ways. Needless to say, he doesn’t think so, and it’s been ending in a scene that could be billed as a pay-per-view event titled Nasty vs. Nasty. There’s no yelling or anything (he knows better--ha), but the attitudes inflate until they fill the room.
The truth be known, I am rather interested in how every adult around me can seemingly disappear in the day to day happenings in this house. I am also rather envious of their knack of not being the center of everyone’s world. How do they do it? How is it that they can just blend in so well to their surroundings and not have to face the day-to-day grind? It escapes me. Well, no, actually, nothing escapes me, which probably leads to those envious feelings.
Take, for instance, earlier this afternoon. I was on my way home from a meeting and noticed that a motorcycle cop was following me. At first I thought he was just curious to see how I handled myself at the Stop sign, but it was quite obvious when he continued to follow me, turning behind me onto my street, that he was on a mission. So, thinking I had a taillight out or something trivial, I gathered my belongings from the truck and headed across the street. He was opening his little compartment on the side of the bike when I approached him with, “Well, what did I do?”
“What,” he asked.
“You’re not here because of me?”
“No.” Turns out he was here because of my mom, but I was so sure that since I am the one with her hand in everything he was after me.
Mom’s van was broken into this weekend, see. I can’t believe it happened because I was awake and sitting downstairs with the back door wide open until two in the morning. The neighbor guy has a surveillance camera and caught two guys, one walking with mom’s wallet tucked under his arm, leaving the scene. He gave the tape to the cops, but we don’t expect anything to come of it. The thing is, they didn’t get anything because mom didn’t have money in her wallet, which will teach them to rob the poorest people on the block *chuckle*, and we heard them complaining on the tape that they only got a few quarters. But what a pain in the ass it is for mom. Getting your drivers license replaced in this state is a royal pain in the ass. And it didn’t help that her social security card was in her wallet.
The DMV told her that she had to have a copy of her social security card or a photo I.d. That would work had her drivers license not been her only photo I.d. and the SS card not have been in the stolen wallet. It’s a huge pain in the ass to have to travel between towns to get all the required documents. I know because I’ve done the replacing of the drivers license thing. Mom’s been at it all day. She’s actually still at it right now.
I am thinking about hanging a sign on the porch, telling the thieves that it’s not nice to steal from a witch. My hopes with such a sign would be that every time something a little rotten happened to the punk asses, the sign would pop into their mind and they would believe it was all because they stole some quarters and a broke wallet. Something tells me they’ve been in mom’s van before though. Her headlights were on the other morning when she left, and there’s no way they burned all night because her battery wasn’t dead.
I truly hope that I can instill the right things into my girls. I have never stolen anything, well, besides the occasional pen when I have to sign something. Grace was totally freaked out about the whole thing yesterday, thinking that the people who stole grandma’s wallet would steal kids too. She was petrified to the point of having to have someone with her at all times. Poor little booger. She’s had a rough weekend, what with the dying of her hamster and all.
Speaking of the little booger, she turns five next week, and Mak turns two three days later. (And yes, I stopped drinking beer in the month of June.) I teared up the other day when they called to talk about registering Grace for kindergarten. Kindergarten. Already. *sigh*
Well, speaking of her, it’s about time for the bus to pull up. I love to watch her little body climb down the big steps of the bus. And I suppose I should relish every moment of it because it will be like tomorrow when she’s jumping behind the wheel and driving herself to school. *sniff*
posted on Mar 9, 2009 11:22 AM ()
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