From time to time when I write, I will admit I have a really hard time functioning in the real world.
The deeper the fantasy, the happier I am. Daydreaming, wishing, wondering what-ifs. This world of bills, money, abrasive and passive-aggressive people: I don’t get it and I do not like it. My head feels blown off some days, and the help I need, no one can provide. Or will provide. Whichever. It’s the same thing.
My contract ends in 108 business hours, plus an additional 36 hours of a Houston freeway commute. I will spend each and every hour figuring out how to fill it. Filling the commuting part might be fairly easy: avoiding bad drivers, defying death navigating four lanes of traffic switching from I-610 to Hwy 290, listening to Morning Edition. It’s the 108 hours sitting in my cubicle doing absolutely nothing as the seconds tick toward lunch then tick toward 4ish that will be brutal. My brain is leaking from my shoes, and no one seems to care enough to give me something to do.
You ever see the inside of a car after spending the weekend carting two kids and a baby to various activities? Kinda messy. Yeah, okay, quite messy. I got a flat tire on the Malibu and took it to the dealership for repair. The dealership was upset about the tire, livid about the 3-kid mess, took photos of the car like it was a CSI crime scene, then emailed the photos to the Chevy Moms project coordinators to show what a shitty person the group had chosen to drive the dealership’s affordable sedan. I was completely humiliated and quit the program. It took me days to stop thinking about how I was treated, and this long to write about what happened. It takes just one incident to convince a buyer one way or the other. I choose the other and will stick with non-Chevys, even though, to be fair, I hate car salesmen and car dealerships like genital herpes, Chevrolet or no.
Q has taken the baby for a month to make things a little easier for me. Ehren’s fairy godmother turned out to be not as magical as I’d imagined, and while Q has the baby, I can look for another sitter and save a little money at the same time. I miss my son, but sometimes we must be practical, right? Then why do I feel like one of those questionable and suspect parents whose houses get raided by children’s protective services and every kid under 18 is rounded up in their jammies and dispatched to foster care?
Please take a brick home with you as a souvenir in comments. I think I need a little daylight.
Wow, oh Wow. What a roller coaster ride. Please keep your arms and legs inside at all times. Hang on because there’s a hard turn at the end of the ride.
I’ll take the brick blocking your view of the amazing TV spot you did. Oh, and the one covering how much you enjoyed OnSTAR. Point is not to let shitty people and events keep you from seeing the better moments or the paths that led to them.
So keep on doing your thing which, from my vantage point, is accomplishing great and surprising thing. I’ll be over here reading and watching things you do through your blog as I try getting the hang of some simple yo-yo tricks. At least they seemed simple when done by others. I’m always like, “Ok, I’ve gotten it to loop around my fingers twice and land on the string. Now what?!?”
Oh, and when you get a free moment tell me how to change my non-representative avatar. That would be cool.
– Orion
Orion is dying for you to read Don’t be Fooled – I’m Not Gloating
What an encouraging comment that made me glad I didn’t close comments as I usually do when I’m whining a little. Thank you for everything you said. For some reason, this theme didn’t load default comment avatars and blocks gravatars, so I had to create one, so it shows the same one for everybody. One day when I have free time, I’ll make some more, and you can choose a more representative one for your lovely comments.
Sorry that things are so shitty right now. I’m gonna take my brick and throw it through the Chevy dealership’s window.
Motormouth is dying for you to read changes afoot
I completely refudiate Motormouth’s suggestion of vandalizing the Chevy dealership. Heh.
Oh you poor sweetheart. F*** Chevy. I never liked them anyway. Strictly a Toyota gal.
The @ the dealership have:
A) never been the transporter/caretaker of kids
B) childless
C) men
D) ALL of the above plus some
The program owes you an apology and free car.
Someone (you or Q)should contact the news program that interviewed you and have them follow up on this atrocity.(sp?).
Did I miss something going on w/Q?
Much much love. xoxo
A free car…haha…that would be the most awesome apology ever. I don’t know if you missed something going on with Q. It’s been a while since I’ve talked about him on-blog. He’s hanging out being dad and stepdad, still living in NoTex.
I’m fairly certain I would have felt/done the same thing after being treated so harshly by the dealership!
I am livid at how you were treated. I hope something good comes from this incident. (as pissed as I was, though, I just gotta say you still made me giggle with the CSI reference…is that wrong?)
I think it’s only natural to feel like inadequate crap, every once in awhile. But I’m pretty sure it’s only the parents that don’t give a rat’s ass that get raided in the night. So no worries there, k?
You are a magnificent person, never forget that.
Christine is dying for you to read My baby has gone and left me & M should watch more horror flicks
Magnificent, eh? I feel glow-y all of a sudden. Thanks!
just sending you good thoughts. that is all.
Minnesota Mamaleh is dying for you to read Minnesota Mamaleh- Yin Yang