Someone's at the door

I've had worse days, I remind myself. 

However, the last 36 hours have been pretty awful. 

Ron, tired of arriving "early" at church, decided to "fix the pickup", without telling me.  That resulted in a very late pickup and a tentative drop off half an hour after church start.  Ron was very upset and agitated. 

I had to deal with that on top of my own disappointment.  I don't think I ask for much, and didn't think it was that big a deal, arriving half an hour early.  I like to "visit". 

Ron made some phone calls and got very upset at the driver.  We ended up getting there 10 minutes before service.  He apologized but the driver wasn't happy.  And that, my friends, is why "church ladies" have such an awful reputation on the service. 

On the way home from church, the driver's computer broke.  The computer has a list of trips and information about each.  It also has GPS for each trip.  He has to "arrive" and "perform" trips as he arrives and loads the passengers.  He had to use the radio for all that, plus getting directions.  It took forever. 

Our ride home was estimated to take an hour.  It took two.  Some of the other clients were getting fussy because they had been riding half an hour.  I wanted to yell at them "I've been riding two!"  I didn't. 

The driver took the wrong turn and went hours out of the way.  I begged God to put His love in my heart because I really needed it.  I did what I could to be kind to him.  At this point, I had been riding for about 3 hours total. 

We had a turnaround trip at home, we were going to work.  I barely had time to change my shoes. 

We went to work and stocked what we could, then came home.  I rode a total of 4 hours. 

I noticed #7's oldest, across the street, was having a party.  He likes to have friends over to play pool in the garage - he's the adult son of the homeowners.  The current companion had a black sedan with the doors open and loud music.  The young man lives with his parents, teenage sister, and little sister (maybe 7 years old).   It was getting late and we needed to sleep, and that bass was traveling straight to my bedroom.  Ron called in a complaint to the police, and the homeowner's association. 

I figured maybe the parents were out of town and he was "off the chain".  He had made some noise on Saturday night, too. 

I just assume parents will tell their kid "Turn it off, we don't live in the ghetto". 

I heard the little girl running around and shrieking.  Apparently the parents were home, condoning this party, which had the appearance of a classical Mexican birthday party - loud music, lots of alcohol, loud until the early hours. 

If you asked my neighbors, none of them could tell you the month of my birthday, much less the date.  I'd certainly never keep them up all night, "celebrating".  I can't imagine anything more selfish but it's pretty prevalent in the culture.  I believe #2 is preparing for his annual blowout. 

He's currently piling some kind of brush clippings in front of my house in the street.  I guess I'm supposed to pay someone to haul them off, again, but I won't.  If I have to I will call the landlady and have her deal with him. 

He only cares about his landscaping when it's his birthday - I guess because his "friends" give him a hard time.  He'll spend weeks preparing for the party (he has this year).  The rest of the year you'll find 3-4 foot high grass everywhere. 

Back to #7.  I couldn't sleep for the music so I read Son of Hamas for a while.  Boy, he had an interesting life.  I read several chapters.  It seemed to be pretty quiet, so I went to bed.   I had to get up at 4.  It was already after 10. 

Something woke me up around 11:30.  I got up to wander up front and look out my peep hole. 

Suddenly I heard loud banging on my door and someone ringing the doorbell.  My immediate reflex: don't open the door. 

In some bad areas, thugs will target seniors and disabled by banging on their doors in the middle of the night, hoping the befuddled victim will open the door and allow entry for a home invasion burglary.  If the victim is lucky, that's all that occurs. 

I was not going to open that door.  Ron woke up and got in his wheelchair.  "Who's that?  I'm going to find out!" 

I told him no, if he wanted action please call 911.  He turned on his cell phone. 

We figured it was drunk kids from the party. 

I went up front, lights off, and looked out my spy hole in the blinds.  I saw a young man, the owner of the black (loud music) car, laughing hysterically in the driveway. 

Aha, I thought.  I was right.  That's a pretty nasty trick.  He got in the vehicle and drove away. 

The doorbell rang again, relentlessly, banging on the door, and I could hear a teenage girl screaming.  I told Ron to call 911. 

Let's take a moment.  You know Ron is disabled.  You have seen him, just as we've seen you.  You see he's in a wheelchair.  What in God's name do you think a blind man in a wheelchair can do for you? 

I made some jokes today about Ron using his "ninja powers" as people snorted. 

If you wonder what God would have me do, everything in my soul was saying "Leave it alone" and "No". 

I looked out the front window again.  The girl was on her cell phone, talking agitatedly.  Later, I saw her lying on the ground and rolling around in the driveway, which I thought very odd behavior. 

#6 occasionally runs errands at night - maybe to the pharmacy.  They leave the house for about 10 minutes and come right back.  As they came back, the girl jumped in front of their car screaming. 

It sounded like "He shot my Dad".  Turns out she was saying "He has a bat". 

Remember, the guy left a good 5 minutes earlier. 

The police came.  The party broke up eventually.  After about an hour and a half, it seemed quiet enough to go to sleep. 

Ron wanted to know what had happened.  He called the police.  Apparently, the driver of the black car, very drunk - got a baseball bat and was menacing people at the party.  After terrorizing them, he went out in the driveway, laughing hysterically, as I saw.  Then he left. 

Presumably #7's family know his identity and intend to press charges. 

I was pretty furious.  You buy a house in a decent neighborhood and then you want to bring in your willfully ignorant, criminal, thug friends.  Not only that you want to disturb hardworking people who are just trying to live their lives. 

Hopefully #7 has learned some lessons about the company the oldest is keeping.  Hopefully they have learned lessons about serving alcohol at parties. 

I say it constantly: I've never seen a person bettered by the use of alcohol.  It just brings out their worst.

I minister to ignorant people.  I don't have a problem with that.  I do have a problem with clearly affluent, educated adults, choosing to thug-identify and bring would-be criminals into my life.  And Ron's. 

If you want thugs, Houston offers plenty of neighborhoods.  But no, you only want to be a bad boy at your convenience. 

I barely got 3 hours sleep, and had to go to work. 

I was dying to go bang on their door at 4 AM, and wake them up.  I did my God Time instead. 

"God" I told Him.  "I don't have it today.  I don't have any love in my heart.  I am bitter and resentful.  I am angry.  I am frustrated I have to deal with losers.  I have to go to work.  I don't have it today.  I know You say in the Bible You won't hear me if I have bitterness and anger - but please hear me anyway and take it away." 

I felt better enough after that to do most of the prayer and Bible study portion of my program. 

For instance, I am seriously excited.  Voice of the Martyrs offers an opportunity to become a prayer partner for a "front lines worker" in high-persecution areas.  I signed up. 

I got a guy in Columbia.  Now, VOM was very clear: they don't want me to "out" him.  I won't.  He's a nice Latino man with a family.  I will be praying for all of them.  I put him in the front of my God Time notebook along with some other missionaries. 

I'd already taken my shower.  Thank God I didn't need to shave my legs. 

I got dressed and went to work. 

The other vendor wanted a meeting - yike. 

No, it was OK.  He wanted to talk abour raising prices.  Our guy from the state was demanding it, but the other guy had been balking.  "Talk to him direct" I told our boss "He won't receive it from us". 

So, prices are going up a nickel, pretty much across the board.  It's the first time in several years.  I'll have to look it up but I think it was 2008-9. 

I'm sure the population will scream. 

I helped Ron with his end of things, stocked what I had in snacks, did my inventory, and left to go to the warehouse.  Our guy-with-a-truck has been meeting us at the warehouse, and giving us a ride back to work.  Ron assumed that would happen, without asking "Joe". 

He called Joe, after the deadline to make trips, and found out, to his horror, Joe was taking overtime today and wouldn't be able to help.  We didn't have a ride to work. 

Paratransit was able to do it but it meant waiting at the warehouse for over 2 hours.  Ron doesn't like the crowds so we waited outside. 

I finished Son of Hamas.  Good book. 

I listened to my music.  I sat in my folding chair and watched over a dozen people, literally look down on us as they entered the store. 

That made me feel special. 

I was so exhausted - and fatigue is really bad for me.  All my Bad Thoughts get amplified.  The driver to take us to work wasn't very nice and broke my folding chair.  I was just so weary. 

We got to work.  I had to tag and stock about 100 pastries. I did that.  I stocked my candy and helped Ron with the food machine (adding bottled drinks).  I didn't get a chance to do the cup-a-noodles but they'll live. 

I took the gummy candy out of (snack machines) 1 &2, and put them in #3.  They weren't vending properly and I don't want anyone ripped off.  I am passionate about having happy customers.  #3 is good for vending wierd snack items. 

Everyone was complaining about the coffee machine. 

"I just don't have it" I told Ron. 

When everyone left, I opened the machine and did an inspection.  It had plenty of coffee beans, and ground coffee.  "Weak" it may be, but it's not my fault. 

I think people get accustomed to the rocket fuel served at gas stations, and expect it from our machine.  It can't do that.  Anyway, I'm not going to accept the stress for that right now. 

When we go back to work, we can do some test-vends and see for ourselves. 

Finally, time to go.  I was so happy to see the vehicle already pulling into the driveway.  We boarded and came home. 

I got an hour nap but woke up hallucinating, I think.  [sigh]  Now I need to figure out dinner and take my meds. 

I wryly noted #7 has apparently fled the scene.  Normally they have at least one car in front of the house.  Not today.  I think they are hiding. 

I believe #6 is going to go to talk to them.  The girl undoubtably scared the crap out of his children, screaming and banging on his door.  Then she jumps in front of his car, screaming hysterically about a guy who fled 10 minutes before. 

#6 and #7 are both Mexican, so he'll have more impact than Ron or I, for instance.  I would love to go over there with Ron in the wheelchair and yell at them about bothering cripples. 

However, God wants me to pray instead, so I will. 

I just wish my life had less drama.  I do everything I can to minimize drama in my life.  I got rid of quarrelsome internet folk, don't interact with the neighbors, follow the Bible, take my meds, avoid bad drugs and alcohol. 

I just want, to paraphrase the Bible: work hard with my own hands, mind my own business. 

I just wish other people's drama could stay off my property.