More bad news

8 Mar

I know that in my mission statement, I said I wasn’t going to use this blog as just a place to bitch. But I really have to bitch right now, and I believe I have good reason.

Sorry that once again, I’ve been absent. Saying I’ve been dealing with a lot is one serious understatement.

I have received some good news: My car is out of the shop, and I’m told my baby girl looks like a brand new car. Bad news: I can’t get to it until someone takes me to my parents’ house that’s 2 1/2 hours away and down some of the deadliest roads in West Virginia. If you consider West Virginia’s roads are generally the biggest death traps in the nation, that’s pretty bad. I don’t have any other takers besides my dad. I’m waiting for my dad and I to have a mutual day off so I can finally be reunited with my baby.

Until then, I’m depending on my “beater” vehicle that broke down right before work Saturday. I nearly missed a story, and because so many people had cleared out before I could make it down there, I didn’t have as good of one. I could have done a SO much better story. I had to take my rental car back earlier last week because insurance would no longer pay for a rental once the repairs were done. And so many people wonder why I own two vehicles.

And when I finally got a jump-start thanks to some wonderful friends in law enforcement here…

I came to the office to find THE FORM in my chair. While I was out on furlough, guess what? Furloughs for the next quarter were announced. The form was for our unpaid off-day requests. That means I will have lost 10 days’ pay for the year, just by the end of June. I just had to bum money from my parents — which really burns like hell when you’re nearly 30 — so I could make rent. Now, I once again have to make the phone call to my parents like I’m a freshman siphoning money for Natural Light beer or Popov vodka. We all had the feeling it was going to happen again, but getting the news always stings.

By the way, thanks to not finding the shithead who nearly destroyed my car, there was an insurance deductible. My dad had to pay it for me because I had to liquidate my savings — about half of it, rolled change — to pay personal property taxes on my car right after I discovered the wreck. I wanted to ask for a 50 percent discount, considering half of my car’s exterior was destroyed. West Virginia’s tax system can bite my ass, too. In Florida, all we had to pay was a sales tax when the car was purchased, then $30 for tag renewals every year from then on out.

Now, let’s rewind just a little bit to Friday:

I went to get my taxes done. Despite losing 11 days’ pay last year, I still owe the feds $634! What the hell?! I had more than $5,000 in medical expenses alone, not counting ones for work transportation/resulting vehicle depreciation. I was told that with the medical expenses, I’d have to have around $7,000 to get a break. I guess I should hope to be hit over the head with a falling tree so I can at least break even with the government.

I feel like I’m having some sort of horrible dream. When it’s all over, I’ll wake up more than 100 pounds thinner, and my smoking hot husband and I will walk onto the balcony of our beachfront house and make the most agonizing decision of the day — yachting or taking our Shelby Cobra out for a spin. I’ve worked so hard to pull myself out of poverty. I started on it when I was in the sixth grade. I realized that there were ways out, and I was going to fight like hell to do it. I devoted my life to school. I researched colleges, careers, etc., for years on end. I finally got to college, and I fought even harder. I started working in my field before I graduated and kept on — even with a little career change in between.

Bottom line: I did what I had to do to get the hell out. Now, I’m just clawing at the walls, trying to survive. I didn’t do all I’ve done to be in this situation. I didn’t study for my first mid-term until 6 a.m. and stagger across campus to take it, to coast my vehicles downhill to save gas. I haven’t run through muck, mud, rain, storms, and even by pools of blood to sit and figure out how I’m going to live on four days’ pay.

I’m sure there’s got to be a way to survive. I’ve had shit thrown in my face before, and I’ve managed to clean up, push onward and (I hope) royally piss off the people who tried to knock me down. I’m just grasping at straws trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to do it THIS time. If I don’t, the ones who tried to stomp on me before will win.

I can’t let that happen. No way in hell.

P.S. I hate to be a downer, but the next few blogs that are coming are going to not be as upbeat as my others. Things just haven’t been all that great…

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