Yesterday morning, I was sitting on the can trying to muster the energy to paste on a smile and get through the day. It was a court day for Evan so I shot lil sis a quick note, highlighting every possible complaint, from my broke ass still hurting to my "time of month" status (which was on the level of "Don't cross me! I need chocolate, pain killers, soothing lite sing along music, and solitary confinement") I could never forget my rash, which thankfully did not develop oozing pustules, but does unfortunately continue to burn and itch and also the head bump I got when I smashed my head against the underside of the stairs in the basement and I've been nursing for three days. There was also my not so carefully worded so I can't reprint it word for word here concern over the issue of the not so amenable nature of the DA assigned to Evan's case. And then of course, my violent fantasy acts on the dude who smashed my car window, stole my purse and wrote out fake checks on my checking account.
She said I made her laugh and that made me feel better.
Can you tell I write long texts while on the can in the morning? I should start a text for a small nominal charge business. I can send texts that will make folks say "My life is pretty damned good! No complaints here!" It's a sort of life-positive affirmation by comparison service.
Nothing got accomplished yesterday, except we have another court date in January. What a frustrating process! There was dude who shot someone multiple times there and another who was discussed who seemed to already have a death sentence. Would they even try someone for a different crime when it involves a stay of execution? And then there was my own baby. SURREAL does not begin to scratch the surface of sitting in the court waiting to see if the DA will negotiate with our expensive lawyer.
Comments