"Hallelujah. Holy shit. Where's the Tylenol?"...

Do ya wanna ask me, Stevie, why do ya drink, why do you roll smoke?

Well, I'll tell ya.
You betcha, I sure will.

Let's even start at the beginning.

(This is your cue to go pee, grab a beer or a cuppa coffee or a coupla packs of smokes, by the way...)
(And, no... I ain't pissed off... *grin* Just wigged out.)

*deeeep breath*

Okay, nigh about 4 and 1/2 years ago, God hollered and me and Eric heard him.
Subsequently, our lives as we'd known them sorta blew up, more or less.

Why, is (kinda) beyond me (but also kinda not) but, they did. We both quit the farm we'd met and been working on and he went to work for a valve company. We moved out of our former bosses house and into an apartment.

Now, when he signed on with this valve company, he was very careful to explain to the lying sack of monkey shit who ran the shop that he did NOT want to travel much because of the seperation, his son and visitation. He was told, "No problem..."

Well, it became a problem. (I've mentioned this shit before.)

So, he quit and we came here.

The entire time we've been together has been spent in a state of constant, low terror. First because of her, and us being in NJ. Since then, knowing he's falling further and further behind in arrearages (because the amount of the support was set when he was making $18 an hour, which he doesn't make here and when he applied for a modification it was turned down...) makes it so when the dogs bark, it stops your heart, almost. Seeing a cop car anywhere makes ya feel like you've got a bale of weed in the fuckin' trunk. It's insidious... and sickening, literally and figuratively speaking.
It's a shitty way to live.
Or rather... exist.
'Cause it sure as hell ain't "living".
(I hope... *grin*)

Anyway, one of the primary reasons we decided to come here was this bosses first day talk of helping Eric with this legal shit.
No shit, no lie, the first day we ever met him, he said he'd help Eric out and we could get married in the front 40 if we want to.
We were floored, to say the least.

And, honestly, as far as being in the very hand of God, this place is IT, it seems.

Even with shit going "not like it oughta be going" (arrearages piling up), we've never had any problems here, besides daily life/work/not strangling a person-type shit.
No legal problems.
No cops.
No cuffs.
None o'that stuff, thank You, Lord.

However, just knowing that that is indeed happening makes things kinda dicey.
Makes the way ya think and react a little "different".
It fucks up how you think, frankly, and is the coup de'grace in the death of libido.
Shit'll just wear yer ass out.

So, for three years, we have this steadily building pressure with no real sign of relief. The bosses usual answer to new developments has mostly been concerned looks and grunts. Nothing... solid.

During these three years, I lose my license simply because I am an airhead.
I forgot to pay a ticket for not having changed my license to Pa. and then didn't know I'd been suspended til I got stopped one winters day because my stupid hood didn't latch correctly anymore since the haywagon mashed it and hell, I'd only asked the guys* about thirty-five got-damned times to fix it, but noooo, we never did do that, did we?
Nope.
So, I got to meet Officer B.
Nice fella.
Hope he didn't suffer a handcramp writing those tickets that day.
(Turd.)
(Oh, and I fixed the stupid hood latch myself with a ROCK. And a hammer.)

So, not only was I suspended, I was suspended suspended.
For a freeking year and a half.
*major sigh at just the remembrance*

Jeezus, what a fustercluck.

That's when and why George, the not-yet-ex-husband "officially" moved in. He lived here for about 2, 2 and 1/2 years, I guess. (*He and Eric comprise "the guys" mentioned a little bit ago.) (And, George had been staying here on weekends for a while before alla this.)

Just last fall, when I finally got my dat-gummed license back, he kindasorta moved back to Jersey to work for his bil.

Anyway, still during those same three years, we've got the legal pressure building, me no license hence no job hence no will to live, and George here along with his dog.

Two, two and a half years.

Then, Sept. 04, I get my license/life back, George moves and I get a job.

Cool.

Eric and I are managing nicely. Everything is fine, except for the legal pressure cooker.

Then, boom, the BC wants a divorce.

Well, here ya go.
Have a divorce.

We're currently waiting for her to get the paperwork, sign it and send it back to the lawyer. Then, it gets filed and then... something really cool happens that I don't want to be specific about, yet, just in case I get "found" somehow...
*knocks on skull in lieu of wood*
So, he's free, he's "free" again and then George and I are gonna split the cost and get "unmarried" too and then...

But, in the meantime...
Back in April there was a request made for an appearance in a certain court by a certain guy who, not having a lawyer, license or $25,000, declined, so to speak.

This in turn caused said court to get completely hysterical, I'm assuming, and, with a docket number for the neighboring county across the order (not the "right" county) they sent us a notice that, since he declined the previous invitation, the matter was being turned over to Pa. "for enforcement" and if that didn't work, it was to go to the "Feds" for "extradition and incarceration".

Now, isn't that the kinda "person" you'd wanna appear in front of without a lawyer?
Sh'ye-ah.

So, we get the notice, we read it about 3700 times and try to figure out wtf it's saying.
We involve the boss and Eric makes numerous phone calls, one of which was to a lawyer who stroooongly suggested he call said court posthaste and offer to pay a semi-large chunk o'change and beg mercy.

That's what led to the numerous phone calls, trying to track down who the HELL was in charge of his case.

Turns out it's a very nice man who is willing to work with him, thank Jesus Christ Almighty, God and every single one of you who've asked God to help him out.

Now, we got his court notice on Friday or Saturday.

Adding to the "Oh, Gawd, what are we gonna do NOW?" factor was the fact that I've lost Fridays at work, which I went over in some detail not long ago.
In less than two weeks, I've gone from wanting to hug my boss when he told me about it to having a mini-NBD tonight because of Monday, now.

(Lost yet? Pfft. Try LIVING this shit.)

Okay, to explain... it was gonna be tight enough as it was, before we got this legal/court shit in the mail, with me being off Fridays.
The more I thought about it, the less I liked it, but the more I thought about it, the better able I was to see it could be okay, too, if I was just careful.

So... today at work, I had the knowledge that Eric was going to be talking to the Probation guy and I called him a coupla times to see if he'd done it yet and it was also kinda busy in there.

End of the day, one of my boss guys, the new "hostess", in fact, mentioned that he was gonna call me this weekend about Monday.
What about Monday?
Well, he wants me to hostess...
Oh.
Okay.
I guess.

I leave work, find out how Eric did, which was "wonderful" with that guy and then proceed to tie myself in knots over this "Monday" deal.

I can't afford to lose any more time/cash. True, hostessing pays more per hour than waitressing, but the tips, man... shit.

Why?

Fuckfuckfuck...

So, 9:30, I go back to work and talked to the "hostess" guy and another owner and the... (I can't keep calling him the "hostess guy". Henceforth, his name is... John. Yeah, John, because he kinda reminds me of "The Critic", that cartoon Jon Lovitz character. And, yeah, I know I'm spelling it "wrong", but the Lair Guy from my real life spells his name that way, so bear with me...)

Anyway, I go to talk to John and he finally clues me that it's just for this Monday, because of the holiday.
This, of course, is after I nearly cry, telling him how much I like working there, how badly I now NEED to work there and why for a good fifteen minutes.

Then, the other owner guy (who, since he reminds me of Dad is gonna be DB, for Dad/Boss) said to me, when I told him why I was there, "Well, I coulda told ya that, ya Goofball..."

(Now, hang on a second. I've gotta go "preview" this...)

Whew.

So.
To recap.
Things are miraculous, because Eric and I get together.
Things slowly become terrifying because of "support" issues.
My mind goes to hell in a handbasket, which, incidentally, is when I found Acidman and then Paul and then alla ya'll... but anyway...
I lose my license.
I spend a year and a half at ground zero of Hell itself.
I find Rob.
I begin blogging.
I'm "found" by Paul, moved to MT by Ted and Pixy.
I start to recover what brain I've got left.
I finally get my license back.
I get a job.
Things improve.
Then, he's offered his freedom from the BC, BY the BC.
Then, the "support issues" come to head, which seems like it's gonna end with a "whimper, not a bang", to quote Stephen King in "The Stand", while he's quoting somebody else.
Meanwhile, I'm losing time at work, think I'm losing more, then find out I'm not, really and....

my head hurts.
so do my ovaries.

Oh hell yeah.
That's another thing...
In addition to all this other shit since the mail Friday, I've also been dealing with PMS. Actually, that's been going on for a few days. I seem to remember wanting to kill some-damned-body not long ago, then being in tears the next day, or some shit.

Oh and yeah... I've also given away, like, seven kittens.

And, through alla this...
I haven't been freaking out too overly much, ain't kilt nobody, ain't gotten all depressed, like I was when Paul found me, ain't developed any new vices, nor dropped any old ones... I've been maintaining kinda well, actually.

But, I'm tellin' ya...
I've about had enough of the roller coaster crap.
Up and down, being whipsawed back and forth, it's this way, no, now it's that way, it's gonna kill us all, it's nothing...
it's making me a little bit gonzo now.

I honestly understand the saying "Stop my life (not the whole world), I wanna get off..."

I'd just like to be able to step off and get re-oriented, undizzy and have my landlegs back, if I may, please...

Just.
Slow.
Down.
Dammit.

*giggle*

Overall, though, we are being blessed left and right and I know it.
It's a hell of ride so far and it ain't even really started yet.
But, I can't let myself think on that too much.
It makes me tired.

One day at a time.
If it can't be one issue at a time, please, Lord, let it be one day at a time, at least.

Now, I'm gonna go clean.
Oh
gawd
yeah...

That's another thaaang.

Rod's coming.

So's my period.

So the men in the pretty white jackets can't be far behind.

Thank God I'm laughing as I type this.
'Course, it is kinda... "shrill", endless giggling.
Not quite at the "Nicholson" level yet, but it could go there.
I can see how that could happen.

Y'all see any posts titled "Heeeeere's STEVIE!!!", you'll know, won'tcha's?

Yep.
She's done lost it now, Paw.

Hide the fuckin' AXE!!!
(And that Pusser Club, if ya know what's good fer ya!)

BUT...
we're not there.
Not now.
Not yet.

So far, so good, for which I am profoundly grateful.

Thank You, God.
Thank you Terry, and the rest of you guys for the prayers.
Keep 'em coming for just a little longer.
It's almost over, I think.

We're gonna make it.

With a little help from our friends.
Good thing God's one of 'em.

Peace and out.

Posted by: Stevie at 12:01 AM

Comments

Posted by: Terry Reynolds at May 27, 2005 11:02 AM (OPRCz)

Posted by: dee at May 27, 2005 11:31 AM (sZnML)

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