Life's been way too interesting lately. Well, not just lately but for the last 8 months. Since my son's accident in March, it's been non-stop extreme emotion and stress.
Yes, I'm grateful he's alive. That still doesn't make this any less hard.
So I'm going into December at something of an energy deficit. No amount of thanking God for my son's survival seems to replenish my energy and my soul. Today is particularly hard because I'm also dealing with lack of sleep.
The latest craziness was my son's buddy wrecking my son's car on Sunday and turning it into scrap (repairs would cost more than the car was worth). I was going to use his car to drive back and forth to work instead of the gas-guzzling handicap van and his friend was bringing it out to the trailer. No point driving that behemoth if Aaron isn't in it. I had been using my little red Cavalier, but it's a stick shift and somewhat old (it's a 2001) and I guess the seat has de-fluffed or something, but I can barely reach the clutch now. It would have been nice to drive an automatic back and forth in the rush hour traffic.
Then Monday night on my way home from work (dark, rainy night), someone in his own behemoth "side-slammed" me. It's sort of like a side swipe, only with heavy contact. Then the @#$# just drove on like nothing had happened!
My sense of outrage went into high gear, so I jumped into my car, started it and slammed that sucker into first gear and took off after the jerk. One advantage to a little red Cavalier stick shift is that even at 11 years old, it still has some get up and go. I was determined to at least get his license plate number. I think sparks were flying out of my eyeballs at that point.
About a block later, he pulls over. "Do you need something?"
"Uh, YEAH, I need something. Your INFORMATION! What happened? Where did you come from? Why did you hit me?" I'm pretty sure there was no spittle flying, but I won't guarantee it.
He said he'd pulled out of a side street following someone else (I saw no one else), then that I had a red light (there is no light at that intersection), then tried to impress me that it "was all good" because he had no damage on his SUV/truck/whatevertheheckitwas.
"No, it's NOT all good. I need your information."
"I gotta go to work. I gotta leave."
"You gotta give me your information first."
He held up his driver's license (in the dark with rain pouring on us and me not able to read without glasses). I got a few bits of (probably fake) information and when I realized he had no insurance, I dialed 911 on my cell phone. He took off.
Later, I realized I should have used that cell phone to take a photo of the license, him, the truck, etc. I was really rattled. More rattled than I think I should have been, really, but stress is moving up from my middle name trying to take first place.
My car is drivable, as evidenced by the fact that I caught up with him within a block from a dead stop. I'm a little concerned about the front wheel's ball joint or some other connector. I have no idea when I'm going to find the time to take it to the garage, nor what I'll be driving if it needs to be fixed. I have a choice of another van (a 2006) gas guzzler or an ancient van (1994) held together with packing tape and gum (this is the vehicle hubby bought a propane heater to heat in the winter since the heater broke a while ago ... I believe that story is on Gather somewhere).
The insurance company is giving us grief over Aaron's meds again (he is in a lot of nerve pain, Lyrica works, no one wants to pay for it even though they are supposed to). More phone calls.
I need to find time to finish the handicap van purchase and get a permanent plate (I have until Dec 18). I need to have a mechanic from the place where I bought the van look at it, since the driver's seat seems a bit loose.
I'm basically living at my son's house, which is 45 minutes from my house and 1 hour from where I work. I've only slept in my own bed 4 times in the last 2 months. My house is a shambles and I won't even describe the bathrooms. Eww. When I do go home I have to vacuum the dog fur out of the bed because hubby lets the dog sleep IN the bed (she does pull down the covers herself, though).
The shelter is stumbling along with lots of volunteer help. Lord knows what I would have done without it. The records are a disaster, the financial records are pretty much 8 months worth of receipts tossed in a drawer, and I haven't updated the computer files (which contain medical information among other things) in ages, either. Just not enough hours.
I don't know when things will get better. I think they will eventually, but I could really use a break right about now.