There are no bad Mondays for Hecate.
The weekend hadn't been enough. Oh, no. Sam running off, having to call 911, finding her eating candy in some poor woman's bed after a three hour search, imagining her freezing outdoors without a coat and bare legs, lured into a car or crack house, oh no, that wasn't enough. I had to have one of those Mondays that make Mondays so notorious.
First, I arrive at work to find that the weekend live-in had set the pancake griddle too close to the microwave and had melted the microwave door shut. OK, maybe her weekend was as bad as mine, but the lunch I'd brought with me required a microwave.
Next, I needed to take one of our individuals to a neurologist appointment. Lo and behold, we should have all studied to be neurologists. Then we could all be insufferably arrogant, rude, and much in demand. He refused to sign the form that the organization I work for requires and said that if we didn't like it, find a new neurologist. Knowing just how in demand his services are.
Then, leaving the appointment, I said to my co-staff, "I sure hope the keys are in my purse, and I don't think they are, because they sure aren't in my pockets." Again, lo and behold, there they were, in the ignition. Normally not a problem, because I NEVER lock the car. I'm not sure why. Too trusting? Figure that there isn't anything in the car to steal except a ball-point pen and that would be on a lucky day? Or, hey, how about steal the whole car since the keys are in the ignition?
Well, the car hadn't been stolen, because my co-staff didn't want to bother with carrying her teeny purse around and had run back to the car before the appointment to MAKE SURE it was locked.
Martin Luther King Jr. Day (observed). Our supervisor doesn't bother to respond to my texting. If she had, I'm sure it would have been her standard answer of "Sucks to be you". The other staff at the group home? Hands full with the other three individuals who were home because it was a holiday. Let me tell you, she had her hands VERY full.
The car was too new and too secure for a coat hangar to be any use. Maintanence at the hospital would no longer break into people's cars for them. Neither would the police department.
As I was returning from the hospital lobby with this unfortunate news, I stepped off the sidewalk, onto the grass, and went slip-sliding along the grass to land on my knees in a hidden swamp. Leg: soaked, green and brown with grass stuck to it, stinking to high-heaven like the swamp it was. Wet for the next four hours. Adding insult to injury: some guy says to me, "Oh, it looks like you fell down." When I replied, that "Yes, I sure did", he said something like, "Oh, too bad." I would have preferred my S.C's "sucks to be you."
What to do. What to do? I call the dreaded Car Ogre, the guy in charge of the organization's fleet of cars and dreaded by all for his over-developed sarcasm, anger-management issues, and lack of patience. Oh, and his total lack of regard for humanity. I got his voice mail. Unfortunately, he called back. Fortunately, my co-staff had reached the On-Call supervisor, who managed to locate extra keys and was going to drive them to us, 25 miles away.
Yeah, we got back to the group home. To find the kitchen sink backed up, permanently clogged, totally inconvenienced. So bad it had to wait for Tuesday, because of course, it was a holiday and there was no one to contact. Actually, there was, but didn't find out about that until Tuesday either.
What a week. Two down, three to go..
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