Dear diary, it's raining

It's raining cats and dogs here. I love it. The rain always makes me feel alive and my body hurts a lot less when it rains. I have always loved the rain. I'll bet I have 6 vintage umbrella's behind my old entrance chair, because I love going out in it. So does Lissa. But, Lis isn't here, her mother finally came. She picked her up right before I left for work yesterday. Good accidental timing. Sometimes I take her to work with me, but, I'd just as soon not. She's a good girl, but, I like to concentrate only on what I'm doing there.  I asked Lis's mom if I could have a couple of days off this school week, but, she said no. She said that's not in the schedule. I don't know what this fucking 'schedule' is. I never got any fucking 'schedule' and I do not work for her. But, fuck it, I have most of a weekend to myself and that's rare so I won't bitch.

Yesterday was pitiful. Lis got picked up and Lizzie's 'uncle' was home, so I got to drop her off too. No, I didn't talk to him, I didn't want to yet. He didn't offer, he didn't even come to the door. What ever. I was free. I went to work, no one was out and about, yet, the square was filled up with cars for some Mason's meeting. They took up all the parking spots which kind of dampens anyone else's business on the square. 'Specially when it's raining. Back at home, I was blown away by the quiet. I have super hearing because of that stroke I had and, man, I needed a couple of days of peace and silence bad. I was so happy I could feel the stress leaking off me. I sat in the silence and had a smoke, looking at nothing. It was glorious. I decided I'd try some cooking. I wanted to make Shepard's pie (ala Gordon Ramsay) with a sauce you concoct out of red wine, tomato paste and chicken stock. I had all the ingredients. I have no idea why, but, I did. I even had a tiny red wine sample bottle I'd picked up for a dollar. I put on MY music for a change, no more Pit Bull or Kesha, please. I turned on Bob Marley, very low, and was head nodding to 'Is This Love' while getting out the skillet and warming the oven. I got out fresh mushrooms and peeled my carrots, chopped my onion..omg, this was going to be good. No more fucking chicken nuggets or goddamned tater tots tots today. No boxed mac and cheese. I am so sick of kid food. Kids suck balls at dinner selections. I was in one good mood. I had the whole night and the next day too. I had a movie picked out. Yesireee. This was going to be...

Pitiful. I heard a knock at the door and I knew who it was because she AWAYS uses that fucking piece of metal as a knocker. Once, she had the nerve to hire someone to padlock (yes, a fucking padlock) my door while I was at work because she said the door didn't lock right. I came home and was locked out of my own house. She handed me a key and she kept a spare key. You have to be shitting me. I took my spare tools from the car, un-did the ugly, goddammed mother fucking lock and threw it in her yard. That's an old story, but, expains the weird hinge left that she thinks is now a fucking door knocker. I hate her sometimes. Back to yesterday..I opened the door and she says, 'I need to go up to that car dealership now, right now.' She knew I wanted to be alone, I had told her. "Why the fuck do you need to go to a car dealership, you don't even drive??'' 'I won something! See!?' She shoves this stupid promotional paper they send out in my face. It has one of those fake car keys on it so idiots will think they've won a new car. "Why the fuck didn't you have me take you up there while we were running around this whole week?" She had no answer. But, the dealership was closing and this was the last day of the promotion. She was being really ass-holier than usual and said, ''We're going up there, right now, let's go." I hate her. I had to put my skillet of half cooked meat in the fridge where there was no room for it, turn the oven off and cover the rest. This could take awhile. Goddam it. To fucking hell. Even Bob Marley would have killed her ass at that point.

I sat in the hot sun for twenty fucking minutes while she went in a discovered she'd won a one dollar scratch off ticket. Fucking wonderful. Now we can buy that chateau in France. Maybe it would have a tower I could 'accidentally' shove her off of. But, at least we were done. I headed home. She says, 'Wait, I need to go to the Hy-Vee so they can explain how to use this lottery ticket.' Is she joking? Why would Hy-Vee have to explain a ticket they didn't even sell her? Who the fuck needs instructions on a scratch off ticket? I knew she was fucking with me then and I blew up. I said, ''You're a fucking asshole and I just took you to Hy-Vee yesterday and hauled in 400 pounds of shit for you! You run me like a fucking dog, I've been to Hy-Vee for you and your sister 27 times this week alone, for real, I counted! All you do is think up ways to fuck with me, fuck you!'' Then I took her to Hy-Vee because I knew nothing would stop her. But, I usually have patience with her. This is the first time I've told her old ass off in two years.  But, I should not have yelled at her. I am not a yeller.

When she came out, 45 minutes later, my face was sweaty and red from the sun. (No AC in my car and no shade, 90 degrees out.) She had a dozen bags of chicken and tuna for the cats. Stuff she already had at home. Her scratch off ticket was a loser, just like her. I said, ''I apologize for yelling at you. I shouldn't have yelled and I'm sorry''. She tapped her chin and thought about whether or not she'd accept my apology. (You have to be kidding me.) Finally she said, 'I accept, but, you have to..' I was getting pissed. I said, ''NO, I am not sorry for what I said to you, I am only sorry for yelling''.  Her: 'But, you have to treat me...' I interrupted, "NO, I am not sorry for what I said, I meant every word, now stop before you get me pissed off again. Do you understand me? Do you hear me?"

On the way home she mentioned the dollar store and I ignored her. I was too hot for that. I felt sick again. I could hear and feel my blood pressure at it's peak. She asked me to drop her off at her sister's and told me I could carry in her groceries at home and put them away. Oh, sure, your highness, I am your servant as well as unpaid on call taxi. But, I did it. I hate her. I really do. That shit was heavy as fuck and not even needed.

You think that's the end? You don't know Tuwella. Also on the way home we had passed some storage units. Someone had cleaned one out and put all the stuff on the curb for trash day. There was all kinds of just total crap, but, there was a loveseat that looked good. She had said, hey, you could use that for Gabe to sleep on. I said umm hmm. Then she actually told me to pull over, go get it (by myself) and put it in my trunk. That shows you how crazy she is. She thinks I can still lift a sofa and that sofas will fit into the trunk of a Ford Focus. I am not lying. She is crazy koo koo loony bin crazy train crazy. I told her I am too tired to deal with anything like that and I kept driving. I also told her AGAIN that I needed to be alone.

After I carried in and put away her fucking groceries, I was nearly hobbled, for real, by the heat and carrying heavy shit. I got inside and couldn't face cooking, so, I went in to take a much needed nap. I heard something heavy pull in the driveway. I knew what it was because I know Tuwella. She decided I needed that loveseat whether I wanted it or not. The 'boys' unloaded it and I had to move furniture here to get it into the back room. But, there it sits. I actually do like it. But, I do not like her making decisions for me.  We've been through this many times. Like the time I came home and my couch had been removed because she didn't like it. I made her get it back. Anyway..

That's the best pic I could get because it's in an awkward place. I have to move yet more furniture around to make it fit and my body will just not do it right now. But, it will be good for when Gabe's here. He always wants to sleep with Grandma Pat. Now he can sleep near me on this. It's very clean, it has no stains or tears, the lable says Broyhill and it even came with a replacement cusion. Oh, and it smells nice, faintly like spices. I betcha it was stored with one of those cinnamon brooms they sell here at the dollar store. Why, yes, it IS butt-fugly, but, it was free. Well, as free as something can be when you're dealing with Tuwella.

Tuwella came knocking again. Can you even believe that woman?? She just wanted me to say thank you for the 'beautiful' sofa. Yeah, thank you and thanks for bringing home all the other stuff that was with it and shoving it all on your front porch. The outside porch that faces the street!!!! Gawd almighty. I will have to haul it all to the curb tomorrow. It's junk. Like a 20 year old TV that doesn't have a hook up for the new cable. It's not ever going to work again unless someone wants to play Pong. She probably has Pong somewhere. This old lady is trying to kill me, I swear to Hecate. She might actually kill me and I'm not even joking. You have no idea how much I hate her.

ps..the Sheperds pie was one of the best things I've ever cooked. I finally got it made at 2 am. The wine sauce made all the difference. I am not sharing with that old lady next door. My door is locked and I will not be opening it, barring a real emergency, until Monday. Thanks for letting me get this all off my shoulders.