More when it rains...

I was all set to go to work at about ten to 9 on Friday morning. I loaded the new Legos into the car, kissed Lyssa goodbye and grabbed my backpack and keys.

Hopped (literally... fucking knee) into the car, started it up and it would not shift into drive. It would not shift at all, actually. Engine was fine, lights all fine... no weird noises... but it would not go.

MY CAR!!! AAAARGHHHHHHHHHHH!

Called Eric in a panic because he often deals with Ford issues through work, but after trying the few things he suggested.. nothin'.

I called Matt next. He was just getting off work, and drove home to get me. He ended up driving me back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. He wouldn't mind if I used his truck, but I cannot operate the clutch. It's my left knee that's messed up.

First, at 10:30, we had to be back here at the house to meet the appraiser. She was nice, efficient, and done in about 20 minutes.
:::poof:::

Back to the summer site.
Moved some furniture and carts and started setting up tables.

We have this person who works for the company... hmm, what can I call her...

Oooh, I know. Brashley!!

I'm hoping I won't have to work with Brashley very much this summer, because I really don't like her.

She's extremely loud with everyone she's in contact with. She's a bitchy, power tripping hag with the kids.

For her it's all about control.
She likes to demonstrate how well she controls kids.

She also likes to be in charge of adults.

I don't take kindly to that.

We went into the back room where the site director of our summer site has her carts stored, and Brashley pointed out that one of the carts had a big, hot pink sign on it, asking us not to put that cart out, as the items on it were personal property of the site director.

I already knew it. Said so.

And by god if she didn't have to start up again with the "This is Mary's stuff and we're not supposed to use it."

I said, "Brashley. I can read. Not only can I read, I'm quite capable of interpreting what I have read. Thank you."

And you know what she did? She said, "Well this is Mary's personal stuff on this cart here."

Fucking cow.

I don't like working with her. Have I mentioned that? Up until now I have (mostly) kept my mouth shut when she's overbearing with the kids. But I've decided I won't anymore.

That will make summer interesting, don't you think?

Matt drove me back and forth while I collected everything we needed for summer from our site. Eric called about noon and let me know that he'd fixed the truck. There was a burned wire that leads from the shift lever into the guts of the dash. He had to pull apart some stuff and solder it.

I'm glad he can do stuff like that.

Instead of taking me home to get my truck so he could sleep, Matt insisted on continuing to haul me and the freight. He didn't want me moving anything.

While we were dashing back and forth in the car, I called my doctor's office. Spoke to the assistant person and asked if she'd called the orthopedic doctor yet. No. It was on her 'to do' list.

So I told her I totally get having more than one patient and more than one thing to take care of, but that as far as I am concerned, the most important patient right now is ME, and I've been in pain for going on two months now. I'm done with that, and will make the appointment myself. Then you and that office can coordinate making sure they get the MRI information and referral, "Because I am DONE waiting, thank you very much."

And I hung up.

Then, I called the orthopedic office. A few years ago, Eric had a very severe case of tendinitis-which-I-always-want-to-spell-tendonitis and we were referred to one of the doctors in this practice. We saw him. He was abrupt, did not answer any of Eric's questions satisfactorily, and has to be one of the more arrogant people I've run across in my life. A month later, when Eric went back for a follow up, the guy hadn't changed.

When I called, that's who the receptionist tried to pawn me off on. "Dr. Brett (not his real name) has appointments available on Monday and on Tuesday and on..."

I cut her off. "Um... no. Pick a different doctor," I said. "We've met him. No thank you."

She was a bit taken aback, I think, but I don't care. I wouldn't be confident that he would take care of my medical needs.

Then, she wanted some information about my insurance and doctor, and where I'd had the MRI and I gave it to her.

THEN she asked for my SSN. And I said, "Why?"
She gave me some BS about how the insurance company might need it to verify my eligibility for payment.

So I told her that if my insurance decides they don't want to pay based on the lack of my SSN, then call me and "I might give it to you then. But as of now? No."

I'm sure they think I'm crazy now.
I'm not, though. I'm mental.

And I don't put my social security number on things unless I absolutely must.

So there was a lot of running around Friday.

We got home at 2:30.

Matt had been up since 11:30 the night before, worked all night, then worked all day helping me before he was able to sleep.

I will be buying him a tank of gas, I figure it's the least I can do. It would be a nice gesture for the company to show their appreciation, but I think we all know how silly that idea is.

I'm glad the week is over.

The last rant to the Anti-Homeschooler follows.
Thanks for playing.