Trapped by the gate

I sat in my seat, on the paratransit van, at 4:30 in the morning, staring at the broken gate at the apartment.  It wouldn't let us out. 

I had had a bad night's sleep.  The #6 kids wanted to play soccer in 90 degree weather and did so, kicking it off the side of my house at one point.  I finally got to sleep about an hour later, but I didn't sleep well. 

I kept waking up, and when I got up at 1:30 I just stayed up, I laid in bed with Biscuit for about 20 minutes and then I got up and brushed my teeth.  After that, I fed him. 

Baby Girl always gets first claim to the food bowl.  That's just how the hierarchy has worked out in my house.  Biscuit is at the bottom of the food chain, Torbie at the top, Baby Girl in the middle. 

I took my shower and did most of my God time, then I got dressed and ready.  We were ready to leave when our ride showed up at 4. 

We weren't straight, though, we had to go to an apartment complex.  We had some trouble finding the client but did so, eventually.  We got her on board and headed for the exit gate.  And it wouldn't open. 

Most of the apartments (flats) in Houston follow a standard design.  They have an iron fence around the property, with mechanical gates to regulate entrance and exit.  They feel, to me, like prisons. 

It certainly did now!  The other client actually got off the vehicle and shoved at the gate, trying to get it to work.  No luck.  

Ron was playing some old soul music on his talking book machine.  I am really sick of old soul music, that's all I hear because that's all the drivers, and the other clients, want to hear.  As soon as they know he has it they demand it. 

Ron tried to say they were "racist" because they only listen to soul music and not other genres.  I have encouraged Ron to use the word "narrow-minded" instead.  Racist is such a loaded word these days. 

Anyway, I am pretty sick of Ron's music, he was playing it while I was trying to do my God Time this morning and I had to plug my ears.  If I had asked him to turn it down, and explained, he would have gone off on a tirade about how my faith is "wasted". 

Back to the gate, another car came up and actually bumped the gate, trying to get it to open.  It jerked back and forth but never opened. 

We went to the front gate but it is "entrance only" and all the other gates were locked.  We would have to wait for someone to attempt to come in, then bolt out the front gate. 

We waited about 10 minutes, Ron still playing his music, the other people singing along.  Eventually another car pulled up and stopped.  She got out and went through a side pedestrian gate, up the front.  She would have to walk up to the security stand and enter the gate code to get the gate to open. 

She did that and it did open, and the driver didn't move!  I asked her to please go while we had this chance.  She gave me some nonsense about "waiting so she could hold the gate" for the other car.  I asked if she could at least move up while it was open.  She did that, "held" the gate so the other car could get out, and we went to work. 

What a hassle!   Another reason I hate security gates. 

We got to work.  Snacks were pretty dead so I didn't need to stock.  Hopefully our Dr Pepper delivery would come soon; it did. 

They actually sent the other vendor's delivery on another truck.  Ours came 20 minutes later.  He was a nice guy and helped me put the order away. 

I was done.  I didn't have the inventory I needed for snacks and Ron had done most of the canned sodas.  He stocked them fuller than I have seen in years. 

I couldn't help but worry something awful would happen to us, and we wouldn't be back for a while.  Maybe that's why God had him stock them so full. 

Just the way my mind works. 

We finished up eventually and went home.  I took a nap. 

When I got up, I finished my God Time and watched a little TV.  Ron had made a trip for us to go get burgers. 

I'm a cheap date; if I eat steak and take my medication, I get sick.  So I have to take my medication with a hamburger, instead.  I got a hamburger.  Ron got one with peppers on it.  We enjoyed them. 

Then I pushed him over to the pet store and we looked at the cats.  The bottle baby got adopted, but the white cat is still available for adoption.  These guys once adopted a one eyed, solid black cat, so they're good.  Your average person does not want a black cat, or a crippled one, and this one was both. 

I found some squeaky mice.  Biscuit loves his squeaky mouse but the battery is dying, it makes a horrible moaning sound instead of the squeak.  So I bought him some more.  It had catnip and a nice squeak to it. 

They are the kind where you pull a plastic tab to activate it; one had been activated so Ron and I played with it, then bought one that still had the tag.  Why buy a half dead squeaky mouse?  We didn't pull the tab until we had paid for it. 

We went back to our pickup location and waited a while.  Our ride was late but not overly so. 

We had a straight trip home, it was unremarkable except the driver couldn't let me sit in the front seat, a "slow" person had trouble with their bottle of water and spilled it all over the seat. 

I'm one to talk, but they really need to have a no-eating-or-drinking policy on the vehicles.  I wish they could enforce that. 

We got home OK and went inside.  There is NOTHING good on TV tonight.  I will look, though.  I will have to go to bed early because I have to get up early tomorrow. 

I'm so glad I already shaved my legs.