Change is Inevitable

     Back when I was around 20 years old, I picked up a book at a second hand store about how the human race hates change. It spoke of how change is inevitable, but it's the one thing we just can't seem to handle. I so get that.

     I haven't blogged for awhile because I have been busy. Uber busy. After losing my job at H&R Block, losing my car to a crash that as none of my fault,  I was kicked out of the program and was truly homeless.

April 16th, I woke up with a bad stomach ache. I called in sick to work because if I was sick I did not want to share. Although others are not as, um, understanding as me, there are things I don't want to share and sickness is one of them. After sleeping as much as I could, I got up and started to feel a little better. I think it was some food I had the day before that made me feel that way. In any case, I went to the library for awhile and then in the afternoon, had an appointment with my shrink. I told him everything was going well, that I hoped to move out of the madhouse by the 11th when I would have enough money for the first and last month deposit. I asked him for another script of Ativan, because I was still anxious about life, what with getting a new job, going off food stamps and finally being off Uncle Sam's Plantation. He gave me a script (not for the Ativan like I asked. but something less useful) and I dropped it off at the pharmacy on my way home.

     When I got to the house, there were extra cars there, so I had to park in the street next door. I walked in, carrying all of my groceries that I had bought while at the store. I put them on the counter while I went to get my Sharpie to write my name on them all. Sitting at the table was the Case Worker and some other woman-the same woman who was with the Program Manager the previous Thursday night at 10:30 when they came to collect fresh urine.

     That woman, handed me 2 pieces of paper, stapled together and folded up. I unfolded the paper and read where I was being kicked out of the program for A) Using illegal drugs; B) For being a violent person and threatening other residents and C) For not following the rules. Mind you, the shunners eat in their room all the time because they have their own television up there. They steal toilet paper and paper towels. They stay up as late as they want and do whatever they want when they want. And I was being served with a paper full of lies. On the paper it said I had 5 days, until April 22nd, to leave the premises with my belongings or they were going to call the police and have me arrested.

      What?

     Anyone who has known me for any length of time-including the Case Worker, who signed the paper-knows I am none of these things. Yes, I speak my mind, especially when my or someone else's rights are being violated. But violent? Because I grew up in a violent household does not make me violent. I abhor violence. Yes, I have lost my temper a couple of times in over the year I was in the program, but have never harmed anyone on purpose. I had to add that last line because when I had to call the police the time I was assaulted by the crazy woman, the deaf shunner begged and pleaded for me to show her what the woman had done to me. I told her that she body blocked me. Because she doesn't like wearing her hearing aid, I had to keep repeating. Finally, she told me to show her. I told her no. Then she begged and pleaded for me to show her. Bad decision on my part. Because my adrenaline was pulsating through my system, I was stronger than I normally would be. When I showed her the body block, it hurt her back, which was already messed up. I guess that's where they get that I am violent. That and the fact that I am a big person, so I must be violent.
    

     As for the illegal drug use, the only thing I could think of was that they gave me the urine test an hour after I had taken my evening meds, so it was the highest concentration it would be. It must have looked like I took more than the prescribed amount. I even asked the woman, who I didn't know, does she know that I am on prescribed narcotics? She said it didn't matter. I suppose anything outside of an aspirin to them is considered "street drugs". Which I find quite funny since they take the deaf shunner to get her high every morning at the Methadone clinic. She has to take so much it's in liquid form.

     And the not following the rules? I followed all of the rules posted on the fifteen pages of them in the kitchen/dining room. Apparently, some pigs are smarter than others. (see "Animal Farm" for the reference)

It was through prayer that help came my way and I was able to get into an apartment by Saturday, one day before I had to be out. I still haven't been able to clean out both my storage units; I really want the smaller one cleaned out, but I can't lift it all myself. I need friends on a Saturday and or Sunday to help me. Are you available next weekend? It would be great if I didn't have to rent a U-Haul, but will. I am not supposed to be lifting anything heavy because of my neck issues, which I go to the Spine Surgeon on the 23rd. But it kills me to use what little money I get a month to pay for both storage units.

     Yes, I did cry when I was served with the kick out papers. I have worked too hard and come too far  to be labeled a violent drug abuser who cannot follow the rules. It hurts. I don't yet know what I am going to do with the organization-who I refuse to announce because I don't want to give them any leverage in court-for writing and signing lies about me. It is a little thing called libel, but I might not have a case on that alone. I have plenty of evidence of other things though, such as being verbally abused by staff as well as threatened by other people in the program who were not kicked out.

     I paid my $300 on time. Since there are 30 days in April, they still owe me $80. But how do I go about getting it without them saying I am threatening them? If they are willing to sign a paper with lies on it to kick me out of the program, I don't know what else they are capable of.

     I asked Blondie to come over last week to help me put together a dinette set. We got to talking and she said that it was this blog that got me kicked out. Really? All eleven followers called the place I have yet to name and tell them I was saying bad things about them? But I have reason to believe her; the Case Worker (CW) has a bad time keeping secrets and she keeps plying Blondie and asking her what I am doing, how is my apt, etc. I told Blondie the next time CW asks about me, tell her to go to hell. She knew those were lies on that paper and I don't yet know how, but I do know she will pay.

     Change is inevitable. Sometimes it seems it's for the worse, when it is for the best. I don't have any rules but my own to follow now. And those are pretty tough...

Urine ON Demand!

     As I stumbled into our bedroom because I was so darned tired, my roommate-an 87-year-old minister of the Southern Baptist Convention, Grandma wanted to know if I was okay. I'm just beat, I tell her. I didn't get a lot of sleep the night before because it was payday and I was busy taking care of all the bills and didn't get in until around 10pm. I get up around 5am and anyone who knows me knows I need at least 8 hours a sleep a night to function properly. I told Grandma that it's  good thing I wasn't pulled over by a cop; they would have sworn I was drunk by my stumbling. Nope, just very tired. I even fell asleep at Starbucks after I posted my blog and played around in Farmville. I was beat.

     I washed my face, brushed my teeth, took my medicine, brushed my hair, put moisturizer on my skin and got into my bed. Grandma was already in her bed, reading another Reader's Digest "Abridged Stories" book. We both drifted off to sleep...

     BANG! BANG BANG!

     I jumped up. What was that? The only person who knocks on the door that way is the Program Manager of the program I am in. I hear voices then banging on my door. I sit up at the edge of my bed and say, "Come in". Sure enough, it's the PM. She says, "Good, you're up. You have been chosen to do a pee test." I asked why me, again. The last time she came around, at a more acceptable hour of 7 instead of 10:30pm, she chose me. Outside of Grandma, I am the only obvious clean one there. So why harrass me?

     I asked her why I had to do it again. She said "because you are up." I tell her the only reason I am up is that she pounded on the door and woke me. I didn't have any urine in me and there were three other people (she had the youngest roommate also pee in a cup) that she could ask-all of whom do not have permanent jobs that are an hour away and they don't have to be up in less than 8 hours to get to. She said they were asleep. But when I went out to get more water from the garage, one of the Shunners was doing laundry. Guess she was walking in her sleep.

     So here it is, 11pm on a Wednesday night. I barely made it home alive because I am so damned tired and all I want to do is sleep. But I am not allowed to. Apparently being homeless is a crime, because I have not committed any other ones in this century. And actually doing something about it - getting a fulltime, permanent job - is not enough proof that I am not a criminal. So give me your pee, dammit!

     I drank a half gallon of water and still could not produce urine on demand. By midnight, the PM was pissed (pun intended) because I could not -and in her mind would not - produce urine on demand. She asked what time I got off work and I told her. She said she would be waiting at home for me the next day to get my urine.

     Since I was so rudely awakened, it took forever to get back to sleep. An hour after I did, I had to get up and pee. And every hour after that until I crawled out of bed at 5am to get ready for work. I fell asleep saying my prayers. And fell asleep again while driving to work. Heaven forbid if I don't pee on demand-maybe they can get some from my corpse. I could just hear the PM, "Yes, it's sad that she died because she fell asleep at the wheel, but I really need you to stand aside while I take a urine sample."

     I so had to pee Thursday afternoon, but remembered I had to pee on demand when I got home, so I held it. For three hours. I had errands I needed to run, but couldn't because I was told I needed to come home right after work so I could pee in a cup. I got home, but the PM was not there. I was doing the "I gotta pee" dance all over the house, asking everyone if they had seen her and they said no, that she was supposed to be there at 2pm and still hadn't shown up at 6:30pm. I hadn't peed since my break at 3pm and drank a lot of water on the way home to make sure she had a big enough sample.

     I texted her this: "I have to pee. I didn't go @ work and have been holding it for 2 hrs because you said you would be waiting for me. I am going to pee in a clean Starbucks disposable cup. I am not going to put my health @ risk." And I did just that. I showed Grandma the cup, so she could see it was clean, I went into the bathroom, filled it up and still had more pee to put in the toilet, flushed, brought out the sample and put a Ziploc bag over it. Then I wrote on it what it was and what time and day it was taken. Then my phone rang.

It was the PM who told me she would be there by 8 and that I needed to hold it until then. I told her I had things to do and that I held up my end of the bargain. If she couldn't do what she said she would, that is not my problem. She said that if I wasn't there at 8 that night when she showed up that she would come in and wake me up in the middle of the night and make me pee again. I don't get it. I have done nothing wrong. I follow all the insane rules (you are not allowed to have tools of any kind-even to fix your glasses!) I am not a criminal. I don't have a drug or alcohol issue. In a few months I will be self sufficient if they would just leave me alone. But the PM could care less. She is the boss, I am the criminal in her mind. When she says jump, I am to say "how high?" and then jump that high. She keeps reiterating that she will wake me from a sound sleep and I will give her urine on demand if I am not there at 8pm. It is already 7 and I have errands to run. The phone reception at that house has never been good and we get cut off. Oh well. Too bad. For her, because I call up her boss-the second time in that day-and leave a message on her voicemail that I do not appreciate being treated as a criminal, that I agreed to give the PM urine on demand at a certain time and she wasn't there. I told the boss that the PM threatened to wake me in the middle of the night, like she did the night before (even though one of the shunners lied and said I was up and walking around before the PM pounded her way into the house. An hour before I might have been). I let her boss know that if she keeps this up, I will lose the job I fought so damn hard for because I cannot function on no sleep.

     At 8 o'clock the PM calls wanting to know where I am. I am at the library and will be home a little after nine. I will pee then for her. I kept my side of the deal earlier and she didn't. That is not my problem. I call her when I leave the library at 9pm and she says she is in Vacaville so we should be at the house about the same time. I drink 3/4 of a gallon of water this time because she will gt her damn urine on demand and I will go to sleep. Except guess who is NOT there when I get home? She doesn't show up for another hour and a half! At 10:30pm, she bangs on the door with pee test cups in hand. I grab mine, go into the bathroom and...can't pee. My bladder is full, but I am pissed! (Pun intended once again) Who does this bitch, who was fired from the only police job she ever had and then sued the police department and lost, think she is? The madder I get, the harder it is to pee. So I try to calm down. I run the water. I think of water and finally, I can pee. I fill that cup up as far as I can, spilling some over the edge. And I still have some for the toilet. I clean off the cup (I should have accidentally spilled some on the bitch) and give it to her and turn to go to bed. But no, I am not allowed to go to bed until she does the testing,. What, to find out I only have the medicine in my pee that I have reported to them?

     Needless to say, I did not get to sleep Thursday night before midnight either and was up every hour peeing. The other person they pee tested was kicked out Friday. She told them she had THC in her pee because she was at a friend's house and they were smoking pot. She was upfront with them and they kicked her out anyway. Well, it was that and more lies from the Shunners.

But that's another column. I have to pee now.

Still @ the Loony Bin w/ Kleptomaniacs

(Note: This blog was actually written before th previous one. I just didn't want Easter to be a total downer)

Where to start? Am still at the insane asylum. The organization has still not decided whether they would help me or not. I spoke to a lady at work about this and she told me to get ahold of Catholic Charities, that they would help me with last month's rent at least.

I still refer to it as the insane asylum because it turns out that the deaf 56-year-old (one of the shunners) is also a kleptomaniac. I rarely go to K-Mart after an incident almost a decade ago at the Fairfield store, where I will never shop again, so when I went to the one in Antioch to buy some coffee they had on sale, I was amazed at the coats they had in the lobby as I walked into the store. First off, because I am a big gal, it is hard to find a coat/jacket that fits me. Second, if I do find one, it is usually a color or style I don't like. Third, if it does fit, and is in a style/color I like, I usually don't want to pay as much as they want for it. Imagine my surprise when I found a warm jacket, in OSU (THE Ohio State University) colors, in my size for only $14.99! It was marked down from the original price of $89.99. They practically gave it to me. In any case, I brought it home and hung it in the front closet where we are allowed to have 2 jackets each. By hanging it there, I would have three jackets, but only until I could put the KUIC one in storage. That's a warm jacket but I am real tired of advertising for a company that I no longer work for. That was about a week ago. Fast forward to this past Tuesday (actually 4/3). When I went to get the new jacket to wear, I noticed the KUIC jacket was missing. I know I live with thieves, but c'mon, I would know that you were wearing MY jacket because no one there is as big as me or ever worked for KUIC. I texted the Case Manager on my way to work and she said she would look into it. I thought for sure the other non-deaf shunner had taken it and hidden it because I had three jackets in there (I am the only one with jackets in there) and we are only supposed to have two. It's something she would do. She thinks she is the boss of the house.

When I came home, I mentioned the missing jacket to the non-deaf shunner, who said the deaf one had a jacket just like the one I described. When I asked the deaf shunner about it, she insisted it was not mine. I told her it was a 4X and my gloves were in the inside pocket. She contended there were no gloves in there and it was a 3X. She insisted almost to the point of tears. The other Shunner walked up the stairs to their bedroom and brought the jacket down. I showed her where it said 4X and the gloves in the pocket. I also showed her where-on the black jacket-there were the call letters "KUIC" along with the slogan of the station written in gold lettering. She knows I worked at KUIC for 17 years. She said she found it in the stack of clothes that had been collected in the garage for a garage sale. I asked her why then, since she knew I worked at KUIC, she did not ask me if the jacket was mine. She just stared at me and reiterated she didn't steal it. The last time I saw it, it was hanging in the front closet. A little later I realized she had done the same thing with a scarf of mine.

When I was fully employed and gave a damn about the GOP, I was a delegate to the State Party, which meant I went to all the conventions. I would always come home with something from there, whether it be a t-shirt, jewelry, bumper stickers or scarves. I have two of the latter-one with a black background and the other with a purple background, both with elephants on them. I was wearing the purple one one day and she mentioned she had one just like it, except it was black. She showed it to me and it was my scarf. The last time I had seen it, was in my closet. She maintained it was in the pile of clothes. I just want to know who is putting legs and feet on my clothes and enticing them to walk off. I told the Case Manager about both incidents and she said that the shunner might not even know what she was doing because she is on such heavy painkillers. I don't care whether she knows or not. I do know she needs to stop stealing my stuff.

I have told others in the house about this incident so that they would make certain she comes nowhere near their things. I can no longer hang any coats/jackets in there for fear that they too will get legs and feet and walk off to die in the pile of clothes for the garage sale. I still do have a coat in there that I will be washing tonight. She apparently sprayed some body spray on it because it smells like the body spray that she and I use. Unfortunately, one of my coworkers is deathly allergic to such things and the day I wore it to work, my coworker had a massive asthma attack.

Yep, I have one foot off Uncle Sam's Plantation (I am no longer eligible for the food stamps I have been on since becoming homeless in November 2010). Now, for the sake of both my sanity and articles of clothing, I need to be all the way off and on my own.



One Foot Off Uncle Sam's Plantation

Almost a month and I was going to do this three times a week. I must've gotten married or...

March left like a lion. The saying is true as she came in like a lamb. Now on to April and her showers.

I was able to get a rental car and started work on the 12th in Antioch. That's the last time I listen to someone at the Unemployment Office. When I was applying for the job there, I would've checked off Mars as a location if it meant I would get a job. I asked the person at the Unemployment Office, since I couldn't choose all three sites (East County, Central County, West County), which one should I choose. She said the first one and if they called for an interview, just tell them my preference. Well, I did just that, but what was on my application was what they went by, so instead of working out of Pleasant Hill on the 7th of March, I began working in Antioch on the 12th. I spoke with my now supervisor on the 6th and she said they weren't ready for me; they didn't even have a computer set up. I came in on the 12th when they had a computer and a cubicle ready for me.

I was able to get a rental car at $400 a week from Budget (funny name for such an expensive car!) for the first three weeks of work. Since they wouldn't accept my Walmart Money Card (works just like a debit card my ass), a friend loaned me her debit card. I got the first two weeks paid by my college instructor friend, but she used all her savings for that and I had to pick up the tab on the last week. Total that the insurance company owes me for three weeks? Close to $1300, which if I had right now, I could move out. But I don't so...

The insurance company gave me $4600 for my beloved Bonnie Bleu II (my last blue Nissan was the original Bonnie Bleu). I had to take the Thursday of my second week at work off so that I could clean out my BBII, take the stuff to storage, run up to Roseville and get the $4600 check, come back to Fairfield, buy a car and return the rental. All of that could not be accomplished by Speedy Gonzalez in an entire 24 hours, let alone 8 hours, so I had to take Friday off as well. By Sunday, I had a 1999 white Nissan Altima GXE. It was two years older than BBII, but a step up in the Nissan line, so I think I got a decent deal. Blanche gets about the same mileage as BBII. There are a few things that need fixing, but nothing major - so far. I am keeping my fingers crossed.

Last Thursday I had to leave work early so that I could get an MRI on my neck. Not only do I have spinal stenosis, but now - because of the accident where my head hit the ceiling and compressed my neck - but my C5 and C6 vertebrae are toast. I so didn't want my boss to know any of my physical issues until I passed probation in nine months, but I had to tell her because of all the damn doctor appointments that are taking me away from work. I just wanted to go to work for at least nine months with no problems, get hired on permanent and then deal with the physical issues. But that is not what the fate gods want for me. I will find out this coming week what the spinal surgeon says needs to be done. I need something done soon; my neck hurts like hell. I would love to go to my chiropracter and have him crack it, but that would be taking my life in my hands as it could very well lead to paralysis. No thanks, I'll walk.

The beginning of April marked my independence from food stamps, which I had been on since I became homeless in November 2010. I have one foot off Uncle Sam's Plantation; I cannot wait to take the other foot off by no longer living in HUD housing. I wanted that to happen before my birthday on the 30th, but it looks like it won't come until the middle of May. It needs to happen before any neck surgery; I need my girls (cats) to help me recover.

Buddy, Can You Spare a Credit Card?

We are already in March. She came in like a Lamb so beware March 31^st…

I still don’t have transportation and I begin the rest of my life Wednesday. I am really glad that they allowed me to start a week later than they originally wanted me to. Because it looks like I will need every single day just to find a way to get there.

Police report has still not been written. They have up to ten business days to write it. So that puts it about…March 6, 2012-one day before I am to begin the rest of my life. I was able to get a hold of the police officer-after three tries-who is responsible for the report. Come to find out the “kid” who hit me is just that, a 16-year-old. The police gave me his mom’s name and cell phone number, the name of their insurance company and the policy number. When I got off the phone with the police, from my BlackBerry, I Googled “Allstate Insurance, 94585” and called the first office that showed up. I told them my story and they gave me an 800 number to call. I did, but was put on hold for 10 minutes and couldn’t wait anymore. I called the following day and it turns out that “the kid” or his mom did not even file a claim! Could be The Kid didn’t want to get into trouble and didn’t tell mom what he did, or it could be that they are just not real responsible folks. In any case, I was on the phone for an hour with this real nice lady who is a New York transplant in the Daytona, FL area. I could tell by her accent. In any case, I told her my situation and she just kept saying she was sorry. Thank you, but what I really need is transportation. Because I could not get to work Friday or Monday, I was fired from the first job I have had in three and a half years. Because I had no transportation to and from my follow-up doctor appointment, it cost me close to $30 for a cab ride (and I found out I need back surgery for spinal stenosis). Because I don’t have transportation, I am unable to clean out my car and all of my personal belongings are sitting in my car in a tow yard outside Travis Air Force Base. All I need at this point is transportation. She said she was sorry but there was nothing she could do about that and that I should rent a car and if they were at fault then it would be reimbursed.

When I got off the phone with her, I called Enterprise because they pick you up. (Note the $30 cab ride to the doctor.) In order for me to rent a car I need a - drum roll please – credit card! I have a debit card, but no credit card. See, I have been homeless for a year and a half and they don’t give credit cards to homeless people with bad credit and no job. Enterprise told me I could rent a car with a debit card, as long as I had two utility bills in my name to show I am a local resident. Hmm, I have been homeless for a year and a half, why wouldn’t I have two utility bills in my name? I called a good friend, a professor at Solano Community College, and she wanted to help, but her husband, also a professor at Solano, had been burned by car rental companies in the past and did not want to be burned again. Hey, I understand. If it were me in his shoes, I would probably err on the side of caution as well. In the meantime, I have no transportation and a job that starts on the 7^th.  My younger sister told me I need to get the kid’s insurance to pay for it, but they won’t do a thing unless the police report says it is their fault. You know, the police report that by law does not have to be written for ten business days after the crash. Yeah, that one.

I did receive a call from their adjuster who on Thursday took pictures of my car. They are still not certain as to whether they could fix it or it is totaled. It is a 2001 Nissan Sentra GXE. I think if the front axle is toast there is a good chance the frame is bent in which case it is totaled. The adjuster said they might pay close to four grand for it. Which is fine, but I don’t have time to car shop. I start the rest of my life on March 7^th.

For the lack of a credit card or a friend or family member stepping up to help me, I am stuck at the insane asylum. At least I am not being threatened anymore. She moved out yesterday. She is now someone else’s problem. She was able to get transportation.

Hey buddy, can you spare a credit card?

Change Is A Comin'

                I did get written up last Monday, though it was for things I did prior to the first write up. I told her (the boss) so and she asked if I was calling her a liar. I told her that no, I was just telling her the truth. Didn't matter; if I didn't sign the write up I would be fired. Right there, on the spot. Whatever. Mind you, this is less than a week after she gave me and our office 2 awards for outstanding numbers. Hmmmm....

                By Wednesday afternoon, that didn't matter, though, because I was offered a job with Contra Costa County as an experienced clerk! YES! I took the test in October and got a 90%, the highest I have ever scored on a civil service exam. I have interviewed with at least 20 agencies and this one-Health and Human Services-liked me enough to hire me. I told them I would be perfect for the job because this past year I have been going through everything their clients, who I will be working with, are going through. Well, except for having kids out of wedlock with different men. Never did that. But being homeless? Living off of food stamps? Getting General Assistance for only 3 months? Been there, done that, do not wish to go back. So instead of being on Uncle Sam's Plantation, I will just be working there, free to go home after my 8 hours a day. No one will call me at 10pm to tell me we are short on coupons. No one will call me and tell me I have to come in to work because someone else didn't show up. No more 12 hour days without overtime. A permanent position with medical, dental and vision insurance. And a pension. And hopefully back to a boring life where I can get up, feed the girls, shower, have breakfast, go to work, come home and work on my book or maybe watch television or a movie with one girl on my lap (Mowgli) and the other on the top of the back of the chair (Ming). The good life. I begin on the 7th of March. If I have transportation, that is.

                My old roommate-Blondie I call her-and I were headed to the Outback Steakhouse for their Tuscan Rib eye that I received an email about and to celebrate my job and that she was going in for ankle surgery the next morning for hopefully the final time. We came off I-80 in Vacaville, onto Bella Vista and turned left, heading north on Davis Street. I and my car know the route well-we used it for the 8 years I worked a KUIC. As we approached the intersection of Hume Way, I mentioned that the widening of Davis Street was great, now they needed to widen Hume. That was the last thing I remember before a mid sized white truck smashed into my driver's side front panel, blowing out my tire and trashing my front axle. I pulled over to the side as best I could, while the other driver parked on Hume Way. He came over to the car and I rolled down Blondie's window. He asked if we were okay and Blondie said she was fine, but the top of my head was pounding away. The impact must've tossed me out of my seat and into the ceiling of the car. In any case, he said he was sorry and that he was a new driver and said it was "totally my fault". After he walked away, I asked Blondie if she had heard what he said about fault and she said yes. I told her to remember that because I would need her testimony in court. She got out and had a cigarette and I tried to get out, but the door wouldn't open. It was smashed shut at the top towards the engine. Then my neck started hurting. I called the police on the regular line since I wasn't bleeding and they put me on hold. Finally I hung up when I heard 2 cop cars coming down Hume, sirens blaring as they went through the intersection and kept going. I couldn't figure out why until I found out later there was a non injury crash at Alamo Drive and Alamo Ct. I called the police again and told them I was in a different crash, that I was injured and they needed to send help. About that time, a lady with flashing yellow lights on top of her truck came over and held up a "slow" sign so I wouldn't get hit again. The dispatcher told me to me to move the car to the side of the road and remain in it and that she would send someone out. A motorcycle officer showed up as did the paramedics. As the paramedics were trying to get me on the board-not an easy task with my jumbo size body and all-the officer was asking me for my driver's license. As I tried to move around to get my license to him, the paramedics were asking me to stay still. Here I am, my fat ass halfway on a skinny board hanging out of the driver's side of my car (the big he-men paramedics were able to rip my door open) while a police officer wants to see my license. No problem, dude, but I am kinda in a predicament now. I was able to get it for him, though. Then onto the hospital for tests. I looked around for my "Hottie Doc" (really, chief of surgery @ this health care system) but no such luck. Harrumph!

                When they said they would give me pain meds, I am thinking hey, cool, they are going to hook me up to some liquid Dilaudid. Instead the nurse tells me he has two pills-one is a vicodin and the other is a Motrin. I start laughing as I go through my purse to show him my more powerful pain meds. I told him to save the candy for someone else, but he asked me to humor him so I did. Of course I didn't feel a thing-my body is accustomed to much more. They offered me a scrip for Vicodin when I was being discharged but I told them to save it for someone it could help. I got home through a taxi voucher and went to sleep.

                Was unable to go to work Friday because of no transportation. I didn't know the kid's name who hit me or his insurance, so I called the police. They said the police report would not be done until Monday at the earliest and the only thing she was able to tell me was that my car was towed by Ramirez. I called my insurance guy and left a message, the same thing I had done the day before so I could pay my bill since I hadn't heard from him since we moved in December. Was unable to get a hold of anyone, except my friend Debra, who gave me a ride to a U-Haul place so I could rent a pickup overnight. I still had to get my headboard, foot board, amplifier and keyboard that I had left at my friend Lori's house last year when I first became homeless. Will do that in the morning because I ended Friday evening with what I had set out to do Thursday evening-have a steak. Though my company was another roommate this time and Blondie made it through her operation and will not have to wear a cast.

                Now, onto Monday, when in the afternoon, I am to meet with my current boss-who I already gave my resignation to-to go over any improvement I have made since my last write up. Yep, I have made excellent improvement. I have decided to take my talents elsewhere.

But I Don't Wanna Be A Diamond!

This was suppopsed to be done on the 19th but I decided to actually stay home because I am beat. And this early spring or lack of winter has my sinuses all in an uproar so I sound like a cokehead needing a fix. Sniff, sniff.

I picked up Ming Friday night from her former caretaker's home. He said she came home Thursday night, when his wife was there, and hadn't stopped meowing since. Once I held her in my arms she stopped, then she started up that wonderful motor of hers. She was well taken care of; her nails were trimmed and she hadn't lost any weight and she had been brushed. I wish I knew who had her so I could thank them. That's a letter to the editor, I suppose. She is now with my former neighbor in downtown Fairfield, where Mowgli is being nursed back to health. I spent some time with both of them Friday night while watching the 2nd episode of "Lillyhammer". Anita has me hooked on it. It's a Netflix production and stars Little Stevie Van Zant of E Street Band fame and also The Sopranos. It's pretty funny.

I still need to pick up the girls' things from their former caretaker's home. It was something I was supposed to do on Sunday, but didn't get to. I still need to clean out my car, which means I need to stop at one of my storage units and get stuff out. I can't wait for the day when I have everything with me and no more storage unit. But I can't do that until I have my own place.

I met with my caseworker on Thursday and the Director of the program asked if she could sit in. Of course, I said. I played for them a recording of GB (look in earlier posts to get the explanation) where she told me to "stay right there". That was after she went on her tirade of calling me all sorts of names and telling me, no yelling at me, to clean up the bathroom. Which is funny because she is the one who ate crackers in there and left one hell of a mess. When she is not on her medications, she grunts and can't stop eating. Needless to say, she wasn't on her meds. I told the caseworker that at the meeting and she said that GB says she grunts after taking her allergy meds because it gets stuck in her throat. Hmmm, she must be taking those meds 24/7 then. At the beginning of the meeting, the director wanted to know why I looked so sad. I don't know, could be because you are kicking me out by the 29th and I have nowhere to go, crappy credit and a temporary job? I mentioned that I wasn't looking forward to sleeping in my car and then went on to explain the circumstances. I think she rescinded the notice she gave me last Monday, but am not certain, so since this last thing is NOT in writing and the notice is, I will have to go with what is on the notice, which says I have to be out by the 29th. I think the director should be checked for Bi-polar as she goes through periods of euphoria and makes no sense and then has periods where she is down. Oh well, like both she and the caseworker said when I was talking about the grunting, I am not a psychiatrist so I cannot diagnose.

I looked for rooms Wednesday morning and Thursday in between interviews with Contra Costa County. One person with a room answered, but that was when Ming was missing. He said one cat is okay, two is too many. I called around about apartments, too, even calling the place across the street from where I lived on West Street for 15 years, but he won't have anything available until April. I need a permanent job; although I will get unemployment when this job ends, it is only half of what I get now, which would be $1400/month with no subsidies. The interviews I went on Thursday went well, but the morning one said I was overqualified and I was late to the afternoon one because the printer at the library took 15 minutes to print out what should have taken 2, so I was 10 minutes late. Oh well. I can only do what I can with what I have.

Tomorrow (Monday) is going to be interesting. I meet with my boss in the afternoon to go over any improvement I have made at work concerning the write up she gave me a few weeks back. It is mostly about being unprofessional, and it's true. I have allowed my home situation to leak into my work situation and that cannot happen. When I am at work, I need to focus on work and work only. I think I am doing better. But it doesn't matter what I think. What matters is what the boss thinks. I showed her the letter they gave me that says I have to be packing by the 29th, just so she knows where I am coming from. I did not choose to be homeless; but I am ultimately responsible for choices I make at work. It was and is a hard lesson to learn.

God wants me to be a diamond; I am content with being a lump of coal. Guess who wins?