You can't get a wheelchair through a turnstile

Well, today was weird.

First, I have to explain that the "short buses" are gassed with diesel at the start of the route, and given enough fuel to last the whole day.  They never need to use a gas station.

Our ride was late.  Normally, I wouldn't have cared, but everyone on the van (2 passengers and the driver) had bags from my local gas station, opening snacks, full cups of coffee, etc.  I wondered how long the "gang" had wasted at the gas station before they came to pick us up.  An emergency toilet run, I can understand, a snack run, I don't.

Didn't they eat breakfast?  They were (the other clients) well dressed, nice shoes, well-done and expensive hair, manicures, etc.  They also clearly had enough money for the snacks, which aren't cheap, at the gas station.

They asked us where we were going and we told them to work.  They kind of paused when we said that.

The driver asked if I had "Got (my) $400 yet."  I know someone, I think the Red Cross (after all the bad publicity) was handing out debit cards but I don't need one.  Don't get me wrong, I only make about $600 a month after my health insurance, but I am not taking taxpayer money just because it's there.  Or donor money.  "Give it to someone who really needs it" I replied.

Over the course of the ride, the driver proceeded to ask very rude and intrusive questions.  How much money I made "Enough".  The cost of our mortgage.  Why did Ron and I have separate bedrooms?  Did we still have sex?  I couldn't believe that one.  How long we were going to spend at work, etc.  It just went on and on.  I haven't had someone that rude in a long time.  Ron kept answering her questions, otherwise I would have said something.

The driver disobeyed the GPS directions because she didn't like the freeway feeder road, and took a very long road around.  She didn't know where she was going, I understand that.

As it turns out, she was going to a new FEMA shelter they set up at "Gunspoint" mall.  It is a dying mall and has a lot of retail space.  They converted that to shelter space.

As it turns out, they were accepting applications for disaster food stamps.  The other 2 clients wanted to apply.  They took one look at the line (the driver kept driving, and driving, down the line, it kept roping around, getting longer and longer, until we finally found the end.  Perhaps 300 people in line for the food stamps.

The client took one look at it and decided she didn't want the food stamps after all.  "My next ride is coming at 9:30!" she cried "I won't even be inside by then!"  You thought it would be easy?  They are handing out what seems to be "free" foodstamps to half of North Houston and you thought it would take an hour?

Now me, if I was going to apply for food stamps, I would not get my hair and nails done, and I would wear my most ragged clothing.  But that's just me.

We dropped the client off anyway, she would have to call dispatch for a ride home.  I hope they made her wait for her 9:30 ride.

When we went to drop her off, a volunteer in an orange vest insisted we were there to pick up someone from the shelter.  He got on the van and held the door open.  He kept demanding her van number, which was written on the side of the van in foot-high numerals.  I told him.  "Oh, you're not for her."  Yeah, that's what we told you!  He apologized and got off the vehicle.

We left them and went to work.  We were, by now, very late for work.  As it turns out we actually spent more time on the van than we did at work.

On the way to work: Why don't I have foodstamps?  Because I have enough to eat.  Too much!  I patted my belly.  The driver outweighed me by 100 pounds.  No foodstamps?  I must like to cook, then.  Not really.  Agh.  I was so glad when we got to work.

They had a bunch of tape and stuff all over the security door for us (the other doors are turnstiles, but you can't get a wheelchair through a turnstile).  In a pinch, we could use the Americans with Disabilities act: equal access for Ron in his wheelchair.

I got in there.  Thank God snacks looked OK.  I helped Ron with sodas.  I got the sandwiches.  They had taken the police tape down.  I stocked them.  I did a little bit of snacks.

Then, time to go.  I meant it when I told you we spent more time on the van.

Ron has finally, finally, gotten to understand we cannot have a 7 AM pickup.  1.  The neighbors are doing their whole "off to school" thing and their friends block our driveway.  2.  The rides are always late.  3.  The traffic is terrible.  Hopefully he has grasped that now.  We will just have to get up earlier.
We left.  Our ride to go home was a little late but not too bad.  I felt a little weird sitting out front.

3 weeks ago, a girl at work (in her 20's) left work and was not seen again.  As it turns out,someone murdered her.  I believe her boys' father.  When she went missing for so long I figured she had to be dead.  What mother leaves a baby and a 5 year old for that long, willingly?  Well, mine, but that's another story.  This lady sounded like a devoted mother.

So it was a little weird waiting outside, but safe.  They have a ton of security cameras.  That may be how they caught her killer (he is in custody).

We had a straight ride home with a nice driver who did not play "100 intrusive questions".  I'm surprised the first one didn't ask us what sex positions we liked, etc.  Ron probably would have told her!  [laugh]

We got home, I ate and took my pills, then took a nap.  I was pretty beat.

I had a pretty good nap; no cats but I managed.

Baby Girl smacked Biscuit today for using "her" litter box.  He got pee on his back leg as a result.  Poor baby.  I yelled at Baby Girl.  She is very dominant with the other cats.

I have plenty of boxes, though.  4 total.

I need to figure out a Bible handout.  It was so hopeless over by the FEMA shelter I think I should try going there, but they may not let me.  I can understand that.  I will figure something out.

That's it for now.