|I wish it were this jolly.|
We're on the goddamn airplane to the States. A brochure in the front pocket advertises free Wi-Fi, but apparently it's not free free. The airplane completely sucks. Free Wi-Fi would just make it slightly less sucky. I'm looking forward to the day when we all say, “Hey, remember when there used to be no Internet on the airplane?”
Or maybe the day will come when we can just get cheaply beamed already, and airplanes will be the 8-tracks of our nostalgic imaginations.
LE came home fine. Great, in fact. Happy as a clam and full of cuddles and not at all miserably spoiled like I was expecting. The lymph node is nothing-- typical overreaction on everyone's part. He's got some sort of allergy all over his body and I'm wondering why no one made the connection.
|You're a fucking dick!|
No matter. BE charged me the 100tl for the doctor's visit out of my child support. Every time I think he couldn't possibly be more of dick, he finds a way to be more of a dick. I phoned his mother to say goodbye before we left and she was bitchy. The words were nice but the voice was evil. Wonderful. They bought LE some new shoes, but didn't send him back home in them. So I guess stuff like shoes and doctors visits and those little things they used to help me with are a thing of the past.
Perhaps it was wrong of me to feel like BE maybe owes me something for the whole fucking year he didn't pay me anything for child support, or that the care of the child has always been shared somewhat more than the minimal child support he gives. From a decent salary. Living with his parents so he has no expenses. I'm not sure if this apparent punishment is coming from the whole House of Ex, or if it's a unilateral decision by the Ex.
BE smirked the whole time he dropped off LE. I guess he was pleased with himself for having thought of a new way to piss me off. He smirked at me while LE was crying as he hugged him goodbye, as if to say, “Look, he cries when he leaves me because he loves me so much.” Healthy, you big asswipe. Fucking healthy.
|The child was their Weimaraner.|
The people in the row in front of us are a model of another kind of scary health. They're those kind of upper class stress cases who've read too many parenting books. They have an adopted 3 year girl who's going completely batshit. My knees are bruised from her banging on the seat, and no one seems to expect her to shut the fuck up.The woman keeps hissing between clenched teeth at the man to do something and he keeps doing what he's told. They're trying to make the kid sleep. Whatever the fuck they're doing to make the kid sleep involves everyone putting a blanket over their heads and the mother saying between clenched teeth that people are starting to stare. I don't give a fuck what they're doing, but her fear that people are staring (they're not) makes me wonder, for sure, so I'm kind of staring.
|I hate you all.|
I have no patience for other people's shitty kids. Not anywhere, but especially on the airplane. Crying babies, okay, no one can do anything about that and I know how much it sucks to be on the mama end of that one. But a shit kid three or older being shit for 6 straight fucking hours? Bite me. I go to a great deal of trouble to make my kid be quiet and as considerate as he can manage and not annoy other people who maybe don't love him as much as I do. So the people in front of me are annoying the hell out of me, both for their over-read inability to deal with the child and the fact that they're letting her shout and the fact that she won't sit down and shut up. I'm finding the fissures in their relationship really embarrassing to look at.
|Life bar, dwindling.|
The night before we left, fucking Spider fell off the balcony. I'm sick to fucking death of cats. When the neighbor came up to tell me Spider had fallen, she said the cat wasn't moving. When I went down to see, Spider was surrounded by a circle of upset kids each describing his or her experience with seeing the cat fall. But she was moving. Even though Spider is the cat I like, I admit I was a little disappointed. One more fucking cat drama and I'd frankly just rather be one cat down. Also it turns out Spider may be the clothes chewer. I've told my friend who's looking after my cats that if anything happens to the cats in my absence, she can just leave them to die in peace. Of course, she won't do that, but that's where I am with the cats.
So my lovely neighbors came through for me and took the cat up to the vet. This was astoundingly great because one reason I was just hoping the cat was dead was because there was just no way I could deal with her right then. LE was in bed just about asleep. I still had packing to do. We needed to be up at 5am. Oh, and I have No Fucking Money until payday.
But the neighbors had a friend who's a vet and they all loaded up the cat in their and went there. Spider is fine, apparently. Nothing broken, just in shock. For the second time this month. She wasn't totally off the sedatives when we left this morning, but had at least ventured out of the bathroom.
And that's where we're at. Away from home for a month to come back home. It's doing my head in.