And I have nothing to say. I'm exhausted. But CAN.NOT.STOP. Must keep plowing through the mire of shit in front of me. My week has been consumed with lifting people up and giving strength where needed. Oh and lucky for you - I just now found something to bitch about because I'm certain y'all do NOT frequent this site for daily inspiration or encouragement.
So last night I get a call from the Prodigal Son. His car, which has been undriveable for a month due to antifreeze pouring out of it, drove the car to the Quicky Mart to buy chew and then it wouldn't start so he left it there and some son's of bitches had it towed and now it's in the impound. He never did catch on that this was HIS fault - just kept bitching about the owner of the business having the car towed. I really wonder if he'll ever fucking accept responsibility for a damned thing. So I give him instruction on what to do: Call the impound - find out how to get it out, then call AAA and have it towed to a mechanic's shop. All of that was too confusing for him so he dropped it in my lap and said he didn't understand, didn't have the AAA card cuz his billfold was
So this morning, I call a mechanic's shop in the remote town where he resides - and YAY!!! The car was actually THERE! Thank GOD for small towns where the impound is also the wrecker station AND the mechanic!!! Impound bill is already up to $85 and running at a rate of $20/day. And they need the keys.
So I text the PS and tell him to call me ASAP about the car. Finally get a call 2 hours later.
Me: Can you get the keys to the mechanic and get the car out of the impound before practice?
Him: Why the fuck do they even need the keys, the fucker doesn't start, what part of that do they not understand?
Me: So can you get a ride?
Him: I dunno. My roommates are all busy doing something right now and I don't even know where the place is.
Him: I SAID I DON'T FUCKING KNOW. AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE THE GOD DAMNED KEYS ARE.
Him: I will look for the keys and try to find a ride before practice at 2:00.
Me: Thank you. Please text me when you are headed there.
Seriously? I told him to take that fucking car to the mechanic a month ago to assess the problem and to let me know - he didn't have time. But I know he has plenty of time to fucking drink himself silly on a regular basis. GET OFF YOUR ASS, PUT THE BOTTLE DOWN AND GET YOUR FUCKING SHIT TOGETHER.
I hope the fucking car is dead. Because he's not getting another one until he gets his shit together. And I'm not falling for this shit storm he's created in an attempt to force me to get him a new car before he meets the goals I've set forth in order for him to be deserving of a new car. And also - did he really think I was going to drive 5 hours round trip to get the fucking car out of the impound FOR HIM? At what age the male brain kicks in, I do not yet know. The husband is at 42 and I haven't seen it yet. So I'm holding out hope for 43.
I'm going back to lifting people up and providing strength when and where needed - I find it less draining and more rewarding than dealing with POS cars purchased from an alcoholic dumbass and run into the ground by a bunch of stupid, irresponsbile fucking college boys who don't do a single fucking thing to HELP THEMSELVES in this crazy thing called LIFE.
Have a quality day.