Last week when I was at the nursing home rehab visiting the husband I stopped by the physical therapy office to see how he was doing. It was weird that no one was communicating with me, especially since it should be obvious to them that the husband has no idea how he is doing. Anyways, the PT took me to the head PT who said something about they could keep him for wound care (seriously? I was so tempted to show them the year ago photos from the nightmare on the husband's feet which I have been bandaging all along) and I said out loud that he wouldn't tolerate that and today, while I am still recovering from my week spent with Josh the grouch, I walked sweet pea, saw that she had liquid BMs and was just so defeated at the thought of her getting sick from the park near the nursing home/rehab and needing to go out while I was visiting the husband and thinking about bringing her with me, but not if she was going to loose control of her bowels in the facilities .... and it was all too much to handle so I called the husband and told him I wouldn't be coming today. I needed to stay home in case my best friend needed me. And then I just wasted the rest of the day away, but I am mostly okay with that. At this point I am too tired to care. Way too tired.
I did wander around the yard a few times looking for .. WARNING RANT AHEAD .. the fucking golf balls I saw all over my fucking back yard yesterday when I was mowing the lawn after being charged by the repair guy to take my mower away for a week only to tell me that the service light comes on at random times and you cant reset it the way you'd reset a car's service light. So, even though the dude serviced my mower this spring, the light came on and he needed to pick my mower up and keep it for a week before returning it, with nothing to do for it and charging me over $200. And then to add insult to injury I realize that the dude has been totally radicalized, like to the extent that when I asked if he thought if you know who should go to jail he answered "Do you think the president's son should go to jail?" like the good little conspiracy theorist cult member he apparently is. Ducking and dodging just like he was trained to do. cuckoo cuckoo. But really, this makes me uncomfortable being a tribe member. Is there a liberal lawn mower repair person out there? Don't know. Anyways, back to the golf balls. So, I see about 7 freaking golf balls as I'm mowing. I'm getting angrier and angrier with each ball. I'm being careful not to mow them but I don't want to keep turning the mower on and off so I try to remember where they all are. After I finished mowing, I stood on the back patio, as one does, admiring my straight even mow lines and the invigorating scent of freshly cut grass when I hear the crack of a golf iron hitting a ball and then the thop thop thop of that golf ball bouncing off of trees and then it falls smack right in the middle of my yard. And I was so furious I screamed out something to the golfer, which I can't recall except for thinking at the time it was lame and not specific enough or threatening at all. But then a young male voice shouted SORRY over the fence and I am LIVID and quite sure it is the very same neighbor who trespasses on my lawn and trims the grape vine on my side of the fence, or does temporary fence repair to her shitty DIY fence. The same neighbor whose lawn guys tossed her rocks over the fence. The same shitty neighbor who never said HELLO to me when I moved in and hasn't said a single word to me since. The same shitty neighbor who has overflowing trash cans right up against her shitty DIY fence which feed the neighborhood wild animals who drag her trash under the fence to enjoy it in my backyard. Yeah, that piece of shit neighbor. I'm pretty sure I saw 7 balls while mowing making the one I heard and saw being the 8th golf ball. Today I managed to locate 5 of them. If I was smart I would have grabbed some old golf clubs from my house and shot them back over the fence towards their windows. This makes my blood boil. I can't even begin to tell you how angry this makes me.
Then the husband calls me fucking screaming and hysterical because they told him he wasn't getting PT because they switched him over to being there for wound care only. I screamed right back at him. YOU CAN NOT SHOUT AT ME YOU CAN NOT SHOUT AT ME. I wanted to break things. I am so glad there were no human witnesses. So, long story short, looks like he'll be returning any day now. Fuck. I am not happy about having to amp up my level of 24/7 diligence and hyper awareness. I want to cry. This did not feel like a break at all. Where did the last month go? I want to run away from home.
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