I’m in my living room parked in front of my TV watching the news. I’m exhausted. That’s my motto lately. I’ve had about six hours of sleep over two nights.
My work schedule today was 8:30 am to 2:00 pm. Management asked me to stay later, which meant they had to give me a lunch. I stayed till 3:50 pm. I was in agony but, I need the money. I have a $555 payday loan due tomorrow and I’m not going to have the money. I get paid on my birthday, Friday the 19th. I’m just trying to stay numb. I think Advance America will probably work with me and it might work to my advantage because, ironically, if they let me make payments, I will get taken out of that cycle of having to get loans. With the fees, I flush $110 right down the toilet each month. That’s just ridiculous. Welcome to the world poor people live in. I loathe living like this. I used to have money. I paid for my new 2005 VW Beetle with one big check. Including the extended warranty I wrote the check for $27,000. I didn’t even flinch; I knew I was buying a great car. Yep, I did. That car broke down exactly once in 14 years, not counting when I killed it flooding the electrical system. The starter croaked in the parking lot of the Altamonte Mall after my shift at Barnes & Noble. I so miss the peace of mind a new car and money in the bank gave me. This shitty lifestyle that is way below my skills, intelligence and education has to change by 180 degrees. I deserve better. So many others who struggle like this deserve better.
Speaking of money, when I got sent on my lunch I went to the breakroom to fetch my coffee thermos and my debit card. No wallet. That meant no driver’s license. That meant no buying lunch, even with a check. Oh yay! Yeah, I was peachy for sure. I realized I left my wallet in the living room at home.
I’d brought some pretzel cracker thingees that were meant for a snack. I ate some of those and I grazed on the fresh fruit and protein/granola bars and drank coffee and water.
On my lunch I made health care related phone calls. I talked to a computer on all three of those calls. Phone tag? Ain’t it grand?
At about 3:36 I was told I could wrap up and clock out. After doing that I saw that my lunch time calls produced some fruit-rotten fruit. I’d left a message with Dr. Bernal’s assistant requesting some prescription pain killers. She left me a message saying that Dr. Bernal does not prescribe pain killers. Are you fucking serious? Has the addiction problem gotten that bad? I specifically said in my message that I did not want Oxy. So, thank you, unscrupulous doctors who enabled people like Rush Limbaugh (yes, I KNOW he died) who couldn’t control themselves. Thank you, unscrupulous criminal drug dealers for screwing it up for us regular folks. The enablers are definitely the greater evils; the abusers many times are stuck in a vicious cycle. I know about the financial version of those cycles.
What pissed me off about the message from Dr. Bernal’s assistant was this, “…she said if you are in that much pain you can go to the ER.” Wow, what an arrogant little fuck. Attitudes like that give doctors a bad name. She said nothing about taking more ibuprofen or even Excedrin, she didn’t even utter the word, “acetaminophen,” not that I’d even bother. Tylenol does NOTHING for me. It would be more productive for me to eat chocolate chips. At least they taste good. It so angered me. I just blew $661 at the ER. I am not about to spend that much on pain killers. I decided that after I’m done with this group of procedures, she’s toast. Fired, and I will tell Dr. Lauridsen how rude she was. I mean, what a bitch!
More fun began when I got to my car and started the engine. On the way to work this morning I noted that my fuel gauge was less than a quarter of a tank. I’ll just get gas on the way home. At that moment I had no idea my wallet was sitting on the table in the living room. It took a second to say to myself, “Ah, shit!”
It took awhile to turn left onto Aloma Avenue. It’s one one of the main streets that traverses Winter Park. I got anxious thinking of the gas I was using just trying to get onto Aloma. I live about ten miles from Sprouts. I drove very slow. At the first red light I called my roomie, “Hey, I’m really low on gas. You may have to bring me my wallet. So, stay near your phone.” She said she would. Thank God she was available. Later, I learned how lucky. She went to start her car this morning to go to work and her battery was dead. She had to blow over $100 on a new one for her Toyota. I drove about 40 mph in the slow lane down Semoran. No one honked at me. I was super surprised. Florida drivers can be a-holes. It started sprinkling just as I reached Red Bug Lake Road and a bit of a back up.
I was approaching the halfway point in my journey and the needle was getting closer to E. When I made it to SR 434 I decided to just park at the Circle K convenience store-gas station combo. It is right around the corner from my apartment. I parked in a space and called Rose (not her real name) to meet me part way with my wallet. My fuel gauge was almost completely on empty.
Rose met me on our corner and we both walked back to my car which was parked right in front of the doors. I went inside and put $15 for gas on my debit card and paid for one Fantasy 5 ticket with this single that had a vile, ignorant message stamped in red ink on it. I fixed it with a pen.
I always hate getting fuel at this Circle K because it is always slammed and cramped and SR 434 traffic almost always sucks.
All fuel pumping aside, I’m anxious and scared about what the procedures are going to find. That’s all I can say.