Tuesday, August 16, 2011

When it Rains, it Pours.

In my case, it's always a shit-storm.  There is no "grey" area.  The sun is shining one minute, the next minute a hurricane is ravaging the land.  And chasing me down.

Storm 1 (literally):  we were hit with a massive hail storm over Memorial Day weekend.  Being a California girl, it actually took me a few minutes to figure out what the hell was falling from the sky.  Fortunately, there was no bodily harm from this event, but our neighborhood was plummeted with baseball size hail, therefore causing some severe damage to siding, windows and roofs.

(Who the hell knew HAIL could actually fall out of the sky when it is 95 degrees outside?!  Does that even make sense??)

Yada, yada, yada............we have over $10,000 worth of damage, and only $7000 from our insurance company.  Last time I checked, our money tree was completely dead.  And shriveled up.  Now, I'm certainly no math genius, but it appears we are about $3000 in the hole.  Problem is, if we DON'T get the repairs done (per insurance company), they wash their hands of having to pay for any further damage to the property.  Whether it's 6 months from now, or 10 years.

Rock.  Meet hard place.

Storm 2 (figuratively): Mother in Law visits.  Now, as I've mentioned in earlier posts, any deviation from my son’s normal routine, causes mass uproar in his 6 year old brain.  Delirious Fucktard Mode.  Grandma does no wrong.  Mommy is the evil villain.  Yelling, tears, tantrums and death threats take over.  It’s super fun.

As much as I love watching my children play and laugh with their grandmother (or aunt, or grandfather, etc.), I'm now forced to *de-sugarfy* and beat my children back into submission.

Storm 3 (also very literal): I'm outta Xanax.  My doctors office sends me this lovely "form" letter a few days ago stating that they will no longer be accepting our particular health insurance (love you Aetna!!!), therefore I am forced to find another doctor who will listen to my drama and deem me worthy of medication.  As opposed to a padded cell.

This could get ugly.  Real ugly.

On a positive note, I am learning to accept my fatness (for now), and am going to look at it as *appreciation for not living in a third world country with no access to food or wine*  (Thank you sweet baby Jesus).

Storm 4 (and this is mostly just whining & complaining and probably justifies me being punched in the face): In my determination to move my “office” (upstairs), into the newly painted and restored den (downstairs), I moved our computer too far away from the internet router (which happens to be at our neighbors house.  Yes, we bootleg).  Which means, my internet connection SUCKS and I’m only able to get on when it’s not feeling bipolar.  And the weather is perfect.  And the stars are aligned.  And the tide is low.  And the moon is in the First Quarter.

You get the idea.

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