6:51 am, at work two hours early

EDITORIAL NOTE: I began writing this very early Friday morning. It is now 9:51 pm Saturday. This remains unfinished, but I’m posting it now. I may mine it for new posts later. PMS

It’s a repeat of Wednesday, except that I had a bit more sleep than on Tuesday night. So, I don’t feel wiped out.

I just ate a breakfast sandwich. It was the first time I ate one of these. I’ve only seen them here at Sprouts. It had no bread. The, “bread,” was the two scrambled egg patties. Thus, it was more Adkins friendly. It was pretty tasty. I also brought my sliced deli chicken and Swiss cheese. I’m about to have some roll-ups.

My shift is 8:30 am to 1:30 pm. It’s 7:07 am right now. If my boss is here today, I’m going to emphasize, again, my willingness to do what I am doing today on days other than Mondays and Tuesdays. Vickie does not mind bringing me to work before her 7:00 am shifts start. Last time I talked to her she told me she would see what she could do. I haven’t seen a real improvement in my hours.

I really have to work on nailing an at home job, though. I just have so many balls in the air, I often feel overwhelmed.

Being overwhelmed. Yes, that reminds me of another chore on my list: finding affordable counseling that takes my health insurance. I’m unsure of why it is that so many counselors (mental health professionals), who have master’s or doctorates, and who are the main source of talk therapy, do not take health insurance. Psychiatrists, who have graduated from medical schools with MD’s, or DO’s, usually do not offer talk therapy. They give out the meds. I guess I might need to find a counselor who has partnered with a psych ARNP, who can prescribe meds. Right now, my primary care physician, Dr. Lauridsen, is prescribing my psych meds.

My bipolar meds. Bupropion on top, and Oxcarbazepine (generic trileptal) on bottom. I take each of them twice a day. I enjoy sanity, so I’m very compliant.

Things I need to discuss are pretty much everything I’ve endured since May of 2007, when my life went to hell. I’ve had sporadic counseling between then and 2015, when I got booted from the program I was in at University of Central Florida. It was free because all the clients were subjects for students in the graduate educational psych program. The counselor I had was the best counselor I’d ever had. Her name was Corrine. She was older than most grad students-in her early 40’s, I think. She was about to earn her Ph.D.

As part of this program we, the clients, had to agree to be video taped as part of the learning for the grad students. I support and trust higher education, so I had no problems with this.

I turned out to be Corrine’s, “star subject,” those were her words. So, she actually used me in her dissertation. I was kind of honored. This led up to me being booted. My periodic evaluations showed drastic improvement to a level in which I was much stronger emotionally. I’d even landed a better job, with Boar’s Head. The job ended when my boss, the distributor owner, had to move his business two counties over.

I am much stronger than I was when I began with Corrine, but I’ve had a lot of rough patches since 2015, when I had to move in with Princess Clueless. Her moving out (from where I currently live) did not give me much of an improvement. I feel physically safer because strange, “fringe types,” are not being brought into the home, and doors are almost always properly closed and locked, but the situation I’m in now is a different kind of unsatisfactory.

I’m better at dealing with crap; pretty much I don’t tolerate crap anymore.

I’ve posted stories about Princess Clueless before, but I know not all of you have been with me since the beginning of this blog.

Basically, I ended up in my unhappy domestic situation because PC was suddenly selling her house. She signed a contract with one realtor and then suddenly went with the house flipper who offered her cash, to cover closing costs and to pay for U Haul rental. The first realtor freaked and wanted a cut of the sale because, well, PC SIGNED A CONTRACT. But, she was entitled, in her mind, and we ended up losing the crappy, but affordable apartment we’d put money down on. It was a sheer miracle that the day we had to move out of her house-a mere three blocks away from my current abode-we were able to reclaim it.

The day we moved in, she was about 5% packed, compared to my 60% packed. Of course, she’d given me way less than 24 hours notice about the deadline.

Fast forward to May 2017, the month PC, and her 9, or 10 year old son, moved from my current apartment: she’d been paying all the rent (her idea because she gave me zero time to save with her sudden desire to sell her home in the first place), and I paid all the utilities-the water was already in my name. The electricity was in the name of our auxiliary roommate (that’s another story). I knew she was planning on leaving in under a year, but never kept me updated on what was happening when and was nebulous when I asked.

Anyway, the point was, when she moved out, we’d settle the bills: I’d pay her half the rent with her half of the utilities deducted.

There were a couple of problems. I didn’t have all the money, and she racked up $1400 worth of damage she inflicted upon my VW Beetle, $400 for an interior window her half-wit son broke by throwing a dart at it, and about $300 in medical bills and lost wages for me getting a hunk of that safety glass stuck in my left foot for three weeks. I’d owed her a total of $1500. Do the math; she owed me.

Because she IS clueless she kept threatening me with, “I’m going to press charges, if you don’t pay me.” She couldn’t grasp that there was a difference between civil and criminal law and that the cops were laughing and rolling their eyes at her.

EDITORIAL NOTE: It’s 1:11 am Sunday 2/20. I might continue this story as a part two in another post. I sort of like where it was going now that I re-read it.

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