Archive for November, 2007

My run of misfortune seems to keep running. How much is my ‘fault’, I can’t say. How much is my ‘fault’, I think might be unhelpful to say.

My rental car was towed last night. I had not transferred the parking decal. I called this morning and was told it was $220 and had to be cash. I called back, spoke with the same guy to make sure and ask about storage fees. He said I had until 9.38 a.m. I had been in work for approximately two hours at that time. When I tried to ask why that was, he kept saying “ma’am” over me, louder and louder.

Sir, fuck you. I explicitly tell you that I am only asking for information as to their policies. I do not understand how this happened. Could he confirm the time? Oh, all you can do is start shouting “ma’am” at me? Great. Awesome. I spend yesterday and some of today trying to be responsive to people who are hurting and shouldn’t have to talk to a dickwad. So I get stuck talking to the dickwad? This can’t be a zero-sum game. I believe it not. Still, a slight fuck you to the ‘gentleman’.

So M. (also UVA) hasn’t left for work and kindly picks me up. D. (work friends, yay) takes me to the tow yard which is in an area of town which is not super ghetto but is more than ghetto. Let me know if you have an appropriate name for this degree of ghetto. At least it’s in the morning. No way I would go there at night. No. Way.

I know that the nearest ATM is out of order, so I head up to the one two more blocks up. No big. Oh, what? My ATM card expired 10/07, just yesterday? Whee. I wait 10 minutes for the bank to open. I get through this with little trouble, thank goodness. I see a lady in slippers and an oversized military coat, smoking, pacing, wondering where her son is. He is military, is on leave, had called to say the bus dropped him off on that corner. She cannot find him. She paces some more. I think at least I do not have a son that I cannot find, a son in the military, or – at this point in my life – a son at all.

When D. and I get to the towyard, I see a sign that says they do not accept bills larger than $20’s, so at least that one thing is working out for me. But I am told it is $260 instead of $220. I do not have this. They have an ATM in the corner. I do not have a functioning ATM card. D. gets the money out and loans it to me. She also finds out the manager’s name and demands to see him. Let’s skip all the crap in this portion of the day and conclude with the manager saying he would talk to the person who misquoted both the rate and the time (I had to miss work), giving me his card, saying to leave a message, but not try and talk to him directly, and he will send me a check for $80 in a week. I do not know if this is legit, but I suppose it did get us to leave, so success. I will follow up. I am glad for D.. I know how important it is to fight, but I am learning how you need other people to fight for you when you are just too tired to do so. That’s what this friend thing is about, I’d say.

I drove out there today. Broke my heart to see my car sitting there. They had not even towed it into the garage yet. I understand this. It smelled like melting lip gloss and days old tea; that’s about right. I don’t know what the insurance company’s definition of ‘totaled’ is. I worries me that I might have to say goodbye to my car. Or that I will not be able to afford either option open to me.

Friends, I can’t even remember if there was anything else. I’m going to clean and eat and rest, if I can.

But I am trying to think of other things that might be my ‘fault’ that I have forgotten to take care of.

Hell, I am barely taking care of myself. I look gross and would feel worse if I weren’t so tired all the time. Thanks for listening.


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