I can only take so much

I've got a new photo, of me and my project. 

The orange thing is the crochet hook. 

I had a horrible nightmare just before I woke up, a paratransit driver came in the house and began beating Torbie (my old lady cat).  I erupted from sleep, enraged.  I realized I still had a half an hour before my alarm went off, but that I would never go back to sleep with my adrenaline pumping like that. 

Our first driver was late and did not inspire much confidence.  I think he would be fine on some sort of fixed route service, like a bus, but he was very confused.  I told him 3 times we were going to Sam's Club.  I told him where to turn as we arrived and he said "Oh, Sam's Club!  Why didn't you tell me you were going to Sam's?" 

Oh boy. 

That's one issue that causes concern for both of us: we have to put ourselves in the hands, trusting our safety, to people who do not inspire confidence. 

[A couple hours ago, I had to tell our (regular guy we pay) driver he was going the wrong way down a very busy street.  "I hate it when that happens" he said. 

This happens?  On a regular basis? 

"Yeah, then you have to wonder do you keep straight or go back." 

Apparently a regular basis.]

We got out. 

Ron had been doing his usual existential/angsty "I wish we were in Heaven.  I'm so tired of life on Earth.  Why can't we be in Heaven?  This "life" is just a stupid game.  I'm so tired of the stupid game." 

Someone needs an SSRI (antidepressant). 

I finally snapped at him and told him, I can handle this when I'm manic, but I'm running depressed now and you have to stop.  I can only take so much! 

He yelled at me and covered his ears. 

...and I left and got my supplies.  He was fine by the time I checked out, and even apologized, promising to "keep it down". 

I reminded him I can handle it when I'm manic, but not depressed. 

He shushed me, but at least he heard me. 

We went to work, I had the fun of unloading the truck and "trucking" it all in the building.  I stocked and helped Ron.  I squished everything into the stockroom. 

We left, and went to the bank.  I deposited $100 in nickels, and let me tell you they are heavy.  But money is money.  It took a while. 

Then we went to Burger King (en route we had the wrong way driving incident) and got some dinner.  I dragged my mood stabilizers out of my purse and took them with my double cheeseburger. 

Burger King double cheeseburgers have gotten a lot smaller lately. 

I brought my projects (the knitting is still pretty small) and worked on the crochet thing at work while Ron sorted the nickels.  I like working in various places. 

I do have problems.  I get comments:
Oh, making me something! 
When can I take it home! 
When are you making me something? 
Can you make my dog a sweater? 

What I do takes skill and a lot of time.  I am not going to squander that on people I don't know, unless you were actively involved in saving my husband's life.  I made a ton of afghans for Ron's "people" - doctors, nurses, even the lady who brought the meal tray.  They deserved it. 

A good example of what can happen when someone asks for a "project": I made my sister a granny square afghan, very similar to what you see above, except it was turquoise and hot pink, with some black.  I slaved on the thing for about a month, tenderly washed it with the expensive fabric softener, took an hour out of my day to go to the post office, paid good money to have it shipped it to her. 

She called me the next week: "It's nice, but my daughter says it has too many holes in it.  Can't you make one without holes in it?"  These days, I would say send it back.  Here's a $10, go to Walmart and buy a fleece blanket without those pesky holes in it.  I was furious. 

It wasn't what her daughter supposedly said, it was the fact that she was rude enough to repeat it and, in doing so, make it her statement as well.  That was the last thing I ever made.  I might have made her a hat but I forget which came first. 

I made things for my Dad and adoptive Mom "Oh, Heather, it's lovely, thank you so much.  How do I take care of it?" 

I made things for my aunt: "Oh, Heather, it's lovely."  Not only that, one item was given the place of honor when I made an unexpected visit. 

That's why, when this thing is finished, I will give it to someone who will appreciate it.  I don't know who that person is.  If someone is going through a trial, or God leads me, that will get priority. 

In the meantime, I have two afghans I made for myself.  I don't need more.  Ron has one I made for him.  That's three, queen sized, afghans.  May it never get so cold that I need all that in addition to all my other blankets. 

Here's what I'd like to do:
Super Chunky wool and acrylic (the brown mix) poncho for me.  Knit
Blue tones worsted weight wrap for me. 
Blue tones afghan for Dad, maybe.  Crochet granny square.
If not that, then the charcoal and denim blue heather for Dad.  Maybe 2 strands knit together on 10 mm needles.
Then last but not least, I have the mauve and cream, not sure how yet but definitely a project. 

I will "catch" them in photos and send them off to loving homes with someone.  I just enjoy the work and finishing the work. 

Worst case, I will wash them with fabric softener and keep them on hand for those suffering from Hard Times.  Those are appreciated. 

I was blessed enough to be able to do that, once.  I rate that as one of the times I truly saw God using me.