Good freakin' gravy, this has been one of
those weeks.
Monday, I'll grant you, was pretty slow.
Tuesday wasn't too bad, aside from work being super-busy, having to skip
lunch, and having to go to the irritating
Grocery Store Filled With Idiots after work.
"Hey, are y'all carrying that
Mountain Dew Pitch Black? That stuff's good."
"Naw, we're not stocking that anymore. It was too much trouble to keep restocking it over and over."
"Wait, you're not carrying it because it was
popular? You were selling a lot of 'em, so you went with a product that fewer people wanted?"
"Hey, pal, don't try to tell me how to run my store."
Wednesday was pretty
hellish. I'd taken the day off so I could take my 93-year-old
grandmother to a very rare
flu-vaccine clinic. Her doctor decided he didn't want to deal with ordering flu
vaccine this year, so we've been trying to find someplace that would give her a shot. The
clinic was scheduled to start at 8:30 in the morning. We got there a little after 7, and the parking lot was already full. There was a two-block line outside the place. We decided to skip it. She's 93. She can't stand all that long. No way I'm gonna let her stand in the sun for hours, get an awful
sunburn, maybe fall and break her hip. We'll have to keep looking for a less-crowded clinic.
After getting some errands done at the
bank and the
post office, I got a call from my brother. His car had broken down, and he needed me to give him a ride so he could try to change the
alternator. Neither of us had ever had to change an alternator, the
car repair book he'd found was vague on the details, and he didn't have the right tools anyway. We still spent about 90 minutes pretending we had a chance at it, though.
And then, that evening, my grandmother called, worried to death, because my
diabetic uncle was supposed to go in for emergency
surgery the next morning to have one of his
fingers removed. A few hours later, the doctors changed their minds and decided they'd try to save it for a bit longer, but still, that was another dollop of
stress to top off my day.
Thursday was okay until after work. My brother had found someone from his office who knew how to change an alternator, so they were out at the
parking lot getting that done. But my bro hadn't been back by his house since before 8 a.m., so his
dog had been cooped up in her crate all day. So he called me and asked me to take her out, put her in the yard to relieve herself, and give her a bowl of
dog food. Well, I got there way too late. She hadn't been able to hold in.
Stinky. I had to give her a
bath, then go hose out the crate. Everything still stunk, though. I didn't know how to disassemble her crate so I could get it properly cleaned, so rather than leave her to roam the house with no supervision, I stuck around for several hours. By the time I finally got home, I had time to pay some bills, then go to bed.
On
Friday, half the office -- hell, just about half the
campus -- was
absent for completely unspecified reasons. I had two last-second projects, given to me by people who assumed I could get every
TV station in the state to show up for a ceremony announcing a $2,000 grant from a local
soda bottler. The
cops and
ambulances were seemingly running their
sirens constantly, which after a while, really starts making you
crazy. And I had to
skip lunch again. I hate being
hungry.
So on
Saturday, after a week like this, I was in the mood for a goddamn
beer. A little background:
Lubbock is a weird town. You can buy
liquor at various restaurants, but there are no
package sales in the city limits. So if you want a six-pack of beer, you've got to go to
the Strip, just outside of the city limits, where they have a half-dozen
liquor stores. They're crowded with
college students and
bums most nights. Saturdays are
far worse.
And
this Saturday was apparently breaking all kinds of records for end-of-week
lunacy. No
full moon, so that's not an excuse. There were way, way too many bums and college students sitting around the parking lot, either drunk or stoned into near-
catatonia. To be honest, I was having trouble telling the students from the bums. Everyone was
filthy. Everyone
stunk. Everyone looked like they'd been in a
fight. I went in, grabbed my beer, paid for it, and got back into the car. Just narrowly avoided some really fucked-up
panhandlers who were apparently going to
bearhug me into giving them change.
Had a guy try to wash my
windshield at the stop light on the way back. Too bad he didn't use a
rag. Too bad he got
blood and
other crap all over my windshield. I thought of rolling down the window to yell at him, 'cause by this point, I was really getting mad, but I also didn't want this
blood-soaked lunatic to get mad at me and come through my window after me.
Seemed like the panhandlers were
everywhere tonight, so I went straight inside my apartment after I got home. Didn't bother to clean the windshield, which means it'll be a bitch to wash off tomorrow.
Got inside the apartment, and the
phones had stopped working.
And there were people
screaming in the parking lot outside for half the night. By now I'd had it. I went outside and yelled at 'em (more panhandlers, dammit) to shut up. One of the
fuckers actually
bit me on the arm. Of course, I gave up at that point, went back inside, locked the door good, and washed my arm. I'll be going to the
hospital tomorrow morning, if the phones don't start working before that.
Jesus, I'm getting so fucking
hungry. I hate being
hungry.