I'm having a bad week.
Compared to some, I'm doing just fine. I've got money in the bank, I have my health (mostly), and a roof over my head.
Compared to how I'm usually doing, though . . . yeah, I'm having a bad week.
More over the Kos croissant.
Let's start with home.
I share a house with my significant other, Stefan, two married friends, their two sons, and another roommate. In July, the married friends separated, due to the wife finally having had enough of her husband's gaslighting, emotional abuse, and daily haranguing of her over everything from the way she cut her hair to an off remark she made about a movie they saw together. Since Stefan and I have heard many of these arguments over the last three years, we supported her in her decision to file for divorce.
While there's some peace and quiet, thanks to his no longer shouting over things like who's hiding his shoes, who's being an idiot on Facebook, and why he has to babysit his own sons so his wife can occasionally shower on her own, we're also short 1/4 of the money needed for rent and bills. To top it off, our landlord is hinting that she'd like to sell the house. Soon.
Now let's go to my current employment situation. Having thyroid surgery 2 years ago has resulted in a vast improvement in my short-term memory; I recently completed a contract job for a trust company that resulted in a glowing review of my performance. However, the key word is "completed." I'm now unemployed. I've got a little money saved, and I've filed for unemployment. Still, I get antsy when I'm out of work, and right now, with the uncertain spectre of relocation hovering before me, I'm more than antsy - I'm downright nervous.
Then came this Tuesday. I went to Point Defiance Park for a five-mile hike. I parked my car near a place called the Rustic Picnic Area, which overlooks Puget Sound from Owens Beach. It's a pretty spot, and the hike took me past several other overlook spots just like it. (Dalco Pass . . . oh, my, oh, my. Breathtaking.) Anyway, when I got back to my car, I noticed that my door was unlocked. I hadn't left it that way. And when I checked my car, I found that my messenger bag - which had my wallet, my house key, and several important pieces of mail - was gone.
The Tacoma PD directed me to a website to file a report for "vehicle prowl." Yeah, my car did look like someone had prowled through it, all right; a calendar I'd bought for Stefan's homecoming in a few weeks had been yanked out from its place beneath the driver's seat and tossed over on the passenger's side; a garbage bag full of junk was up on the back seat; and my belongings were gone. Thankfully, I had just enough charge left on my phone to not only call the police, but call my banks and tell them to cancel my cards. The thief, or thieves, had already used one debit card to make a purchase at McDonald's and two attempts at two Shell stations in the area.
I managed to save my bank accounts. I'm still royally pissed that my messenger bag and wallet - one a birthday gift, the other a farewell gift when I left Arizona - are gone for good. I'm especially pissed that I had to replace the locks on the house I rent. And then, to add insult to injury?
I get an email from the Tacoma PD telling me that there was an error with my report, and I may have to submit it again.
At least they told me, but . . . dammit.
And the capper? A person I know, someone toxic I cut out of my life, just sent me a friend request on Facebook.
I need a good stiff drink, a winning lottery ticket, and a way to make certain people disappear.
Thus endeth the whine for this week. Thanks for listening.