It was bound to happen. Happens every time I vow to be a better more compassionate human being. Life takes a great big steaming crap on my person a couple, 3 times and, blamo, the nice me whimpers....."oooo. can't we just be sweet to each other?" Which elicits an immediate negative retching reaction from my other personality. And.....THE CRABOLATOR emerges.
In the past several days Bob and I have worked "alone" cleaning out Miss Ellie's apartment while one sib, micro-manages from another state and the other sib and his bride have turned into the amazing disappearing couple. This is NOT a small amount of work.
Fine. I can deal. I just go in there, keep on workin' and get her done.
However, that's not the ONLY thing that's happened. My brand new car has been hit twice in 3 weeks. The first time some idiot in a dump truck was hauling gravel "uncovered"! The gravel flew out of his truck. We got whacked a number of times one of which put a nice little bullet hole looking series of cracks in my windshield. Would the guy pull over? NOPE!
We followed him back to the quarry where he tried to get out of taking responsibility, the little toad! (he lost)
Second time: Once again at Ellie's cleaning and packing "alone". One of her neighbors (in a nearly empty parking lot) backs into the front of my car. (important note: to do this she had to back all the way ACROSS an empty parking lot. Mind boggling, isn't it?) The good news here is, you can now easily see how they attach the side panel bumper to the main part of the car.
Bone tired, stressed to the maximum of my personal capabilities, I sat statue-like on the floor of the now empty bedroom. I could feel the drool running down the sides of my gaping maw as I continued mindlessly to sit ..... staring....staring...staring, until finally I got up and pronounced to Bob. "I'm going home now."DON'T YOU DARE STOP READING HERE! IT'S NOT OVER.
In the car, Bob tries making conversation. I hear his voice but from far, far, away as I notice up ahead of us....yet another dump truck, this time with a covered load ..... only....it's not all the way tied down. All of a sudden debris begins to fly off the back the truck bouncing all over the highway hitting one car after another. Not the least of which, is........go ahead.....guess. Did you guess, MINE? YOU'RE RIGHT! The sound was rhythmic to the point of being almost hypnotizing. click click clickty CLUMP! click click click BING! Over and over. Oddly, Bob didn't seem to even notice. He says to me, "You sure are quiet. Are you ok? You're scaring me a little."
"Fine," I tell him. "Just watching this shit hit my car over and over and over."
"Damn!" he says. "Not again."
Once home, Bob got out to check the now battered to hell, less than 2 months old car, for additional damages. I decided not to look and instead retreated to the one place in the world where I could catch a breeze and possibly regain my sanity. My nice quiet, comfy, new patio on the ravine.
BUT NO, FUCK ME! My neighbor has installed brand new high powered speakers and apparently mounted them on the fence wall between our properties. And his bite-my-ass music is blaring into my yard, the ravine, and possibly.....your house! This is the 3rd night in a row for this crap.
In all honesty, I don't know exactly what happened just then and don't remember getting the gun. But get it, I did. What I do remember is slamming the clip home, taking off the safety, chambering my first bullet and opening the back door with ABSOLUTELY every intention of blowing those speakers to hell. That's when Jake shouted...."HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU CAN'T TAKE A GUN OUTSIDE? ARE YOU CRAZY? YOU'RE GONNA GET ARRESTED! Oh, I don't even want to tell Dad about this one. PUT THAT GUN AWAY!"
I stood there, staring longingly from the weapon to my neighbors yard where now his 3 idiot dogs had begun barking. Nice little back up to the blaring music. I doubt he heard the dogs.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I shouted.
Jake laughed but stood firm on the gun issue. "Put the gun down, Mom. I'm serious. You won't like prison. If you just talk to the guy I'm sure he'll turn the music down. Have you even tried talking to him?"
I didn't comment. Just took the clip out of the gun and walked away.
Today we discovered a big white scratch across the side of my car. The side that hasn't been backed into. I figure the next crash should probably come from the rear since every other side of the vehicle has been spoken for. I don't know when, where, or how. But it will happen. Why? I don't know.
I have been told to verbalize and not internalize. So today I begin....vocalizing. And heaven have mercy on anyone who screws with me. Cause they're gonna need it.
Labels: bad drivers, guns, inconsiderate assholes, irrisponsible truckers, worthless relatives