"Now, don't freak out" "Well, I heard"

We got up at 2 AM today to go get a delivery.  The driver "forgot we were on the route" and was late.  Not only that, he was horrified when he got a look at me. 

"You cut your hair!"  Yeah.  I'm glad I did and everyone likes it. 
[gaping in horror]
"It's still me, you know." 
[gaping in horror]
"You want a sandwich?"
[nods mutely]
I guess I couldn't win them all. 

I think I'm going out of the mania, boo.  Ron's usual negativity is really starting to annoy me, which is generally a sign I'm running depressed.  If I really listened to him, I swear I'd kill myself. 

No, that is not a threat, but I'm not as good at tuning him out when I'm depressed.   Ron bounces in and out but I'm more persistent. 

Anyway, lots of work yesterday and today, but it's all done. 

I figured out a little trick for the headaches: I take a dose of Aleve (naproxen) before bedtime and wake up WITHOUT  a headache, unlike the last, past, week. 

[Ick alert]

Ron's leg ulcer is either healing or getting infected.  It doesn't have any redness or swelling, but it looks grotesque.  I disinfected it. 

I know it's ugly when he says "Now don't freak out....", I know I will be confronted with a scene out of a horror movie.  If it's bad, he will go to a doctor, but it takes him forever to decide it's "bad".  In the meantime, I'm trying to clean this oozing crater, surrounded by angry red skin. 

[done with the ick]

My cycle should be starting pretty soon, but I'm not overly worried.  We get the "new" machines delivered at work the second week of March, thank God I will be done by then. 

The cats are good.  I woke up this morning with Biscuit and Torbie in my bed.  It was pretty crowded. 

My most poignant moment sleeping with a cat: Bubba.  I roll over from one side to the other, a lot, at night.  I woke up rolled over on Bubba, with him flailing away underneath me.  Happily that only happened once but it does get crowded. 

I'm fine with that. 

Yesterday, we went to the warehouse, got supplies, went to work: Truck Day.  The driver cut off some really nice guys and parked in such a way they couldn't load their truck.  I was Not Happy and let him know "These are nice guys". 

"Well" He replied "I just did to them what they did to me.  They should have pulled up further under the awning."  Because they didn't, apparently, that made it OK to angle his pickup in such a way they could barely open their tailgate. 

One of them came over to help "Because they were trying to get rid of us" said my driver - but this man has helped before. 

I gave him what I hope was a lovely smile and thanked him.  He knew I wasn't the one playing games. 

Not Happy.  It's one thing to yell at the food trucks when they park in the handicapped parking.  I can understand that.  But playing games like this because you don't like their parking? 

They have a business.  They are in a hurry.  Well, he replied, if they learned their lesson it won't happen again. 

Sometimes I wonder if he is trying to provoke confrontations, lately. 

We got to work.  He stood around while I unloaded with a little help from Ron. That's fine.  I don't need someone getting hurt and putting it on us.  I'd rather do my own work.  This happens every time.  He also has some health issues. 

One time I dropped a case of soda, oh, that was a mess, but I only had myself to blame. 

Anyway, got it unloaded, barely managed to put it away.  We went home.  I got a nap, barely, and then had to turn around and go to bed a couple hours later. 

I didn't sleep well, I normally don't on delivery eve.  I did see one neighbor leaving when we did so that explains why most of them are very quiet at night. 

We had to pick up some other clients on the way to work, including him.  I don't like him.  He is weird.  Not quirky, just weird.  He stands too close when talking to me, but not when talking to other men.  He makes odd comments and gets into my business. 

A good example.  He took his sweet time coming out so I got out my needlework.  I was working on it as he boarded.  I kept my eyes on my work. 

"When are you making ME something?"
"I'm not" He got all nasty after that.  Look, you're married.  Have your wife or kid make you something.  I'm not your wife.  I haven't even made my Dad anything other than a hat.  Why would I make a complicated project for someone I don't even like?  I didn't say any of this. 

Later on he gets started talking about the accident, asking questions - just to be nosy and have something to gossip about - not out of any real desire to hear what happened. 

"Well," he said "I heard it was [your fault, Heather]." 

[side note: how is it my fault that a grown man running his own business chose to go to work by himself, and someone else chose to run a red light while talking on a cell phone?]

"People say a lot of things." I replied, and went back to my needlework.  Ron defended me but I thought HOW RUDE.  Even if it's true, and it's not, how is it going to fix or improve anything by throwing rocks at me, 13 years later? 

Next time I will say "I don't put any stock in what people hear.  It's all gossip, isn't it?  I don't gossip, and I'm ending the conversation." 

Ugh.  I STILL have to deal with the backstabbing and the rock throwing. 

There was a witness to the accident.  From what I have gathered, he was an on-the-clock POSTAL driver, who told Ron It was safe to go.

I met this man's son.  I was jogging one day and this boy came up screaming at me, asking, angrily, why my husband was alive because "My Daddy saw him hit and fall down like he was dead.  He's supposed to be dead, why isn't he dead?!"  The boy was about 10-12 years old. 

The boy was black.  The driver was latino, and lives in a completely different part of town. 

When we tried to find this person, they hid him.  The police officer told me there was a witness but somehow it didn't make it onto the report.  The police officer was probably too busy spending the money he stole from Ron, to do that.

I believe all the postal attacks and fingerpointing are actually meant to deflect attention from the responsible party, who told Ron it was safe to go.

Had we been able to find, and sue this person, the postal truck insurance would have actually taken care of us.  The paltry $2K settlement we got from the man who ran him over was a joke.  It just got the hospital off our credit report. 

Am I angry at this person?  No.  I'm a little disgusted at his cowardice.  Their insurance would have paid, he would have kept his job, and he wouldn't have even had a mark on his driving record.   I hope it bothers him.  I hope he has nightmares. 

Am I angry at the post office for hiding this man?  Somewhat.  We suffered a lot, financially, and we didn't have to, because "everyone" assumed "Everyone gets $800K from a car accident like we see on the TV accident lawyers, they don't need to bother our guy." 

But the statute of limitations ran out 133 months ago.  I can't carry around resentment, even though some people have told me we didn't get a big settlement because we were "stupid and hired the wrong lawyer".   I guess having a Yale lawyer in the family doesn't count (he did not manage the case but a well known firm downtown did). 

Of course, I still had to work through all of this because that guy made those comments to me.  Oh, I don't like that man. 

I HATE that he rides paratransit.  With us.  So I do my best to ignore him. 

Everyone knows "that person".  Occasionally, I admit, I can be that person, especially if I'm manic or depressed. 

Lord, don't let me be that person. 

I'm working on it.