Diary of a Sex-Starved Pseudo-Mennonite, Part 55

9 days ago I got rear-ended at high speed in Indiana. Airbags deployed, leaving me bloodied and bruised and shocked, but theoretically fine. Daisy was at home. Or else she would have been in the backseat dead, or worse. 

A veteran ran to help me. A number of people ran to help me, actually. An appalled black male witness stayed to drop dime to the po-po on the people who hit me. Now that's civic concern. He was much more convinced of their guilt than I was. I'm a shitty driver. I never saw them coming. I was worried about nearly missing my turn. Because I was lost. As usual. I only felt them hit, launch, explosion. The helpful people got me out of the car once I seemed not to be actually injured, in case the car was gonna blow. The veteran stayed until the ambulance and the police wandered off and I was sitting alone on a curb in my new town with my arm aching waiting for my aunt and uncle to pick me up. They are the only people I know nearby. The veteran waited to see if I needed a ride. Wishing me well from his pickup with a huge patriot flag, he remembered my name and used it. I wish I could remember his. I wanted to go with. He would have definitely taken care of me.

My aunt and uncle let Daisy back in their living quarters despite a recent ban due to some debris she left in the guest bed last time. Daisy and I are all over my aunt and uncle's boundaries. It's what we do.

They provided vet transport the next day for Daisy's procedures. The reason I was in town. Spay. Gastric procedure to prevent deadly Dane bloat. Microchip. 2nd Lyme's Disease series. (Coastal Indiana is brushy.) Daisy won't have babies. I finally got real about that. I hate it. But it's done.

Daisy came out of the animal hospital in the world's largest onesie, high. She has learned how to Houdini out of her protective garment by now, the minute I leave her alone. Like the way she escapes the crates at PetSuites. She was gone from The Suites for 2 weeks. The scheduler on the phone exclaimed "It will be so good to see her again!" Daisy and I are pains in the ass. But people miss us.

The animal hospital gave me 5 medications to administer to Daisy twice daily. Are you fucking kidding me? I winged it the first day because I didn't have the pill cutter leftover from my seizure-prone deceased poodle at my aunt's house and I was mentally fucked up from my accident, unable to do much. Daisy was extremely sleepy as a result and I cut the 1 problematic set of tiny pills when I got back to Illinois and my poodle's pill cutter.

I started my sinus infection the day after the accident. Just like last 4th of July with The Toucher and the 1 before that. I could not sleep wondering how I would work in suburban Chicago and live in Indiana without a car. Let alone finish moving between states. I failed to get rental car coverage because the last time the agent asked me, I had 2 cars and didn't need it. This was before The Crusher met her maker in Sioux country during my epic move East.

 

My car was totaled. Buying a used car now is like buying a house. Good. Fucking. Luck. I have dyscalcalulia, which I cannot spell or pronounce, and for me means I don't know directions or even left from right with any consistency. I can barely work doors due to these directional challenges. People don't understand that this is a thing and think I'm fuckin' stoopid. I learned this predicament had a name just recently myself on Facebook. (Thank you Amy Jean, advocate extraordinaire.) I had named it Directional Dyslexia prior. Which I think speaks more to the experience.. 

My Soul's nav made my life here possible. I don't know how to get to work or my new house on my own. Even using nav, I regularly get lost. And my ghetto phone nav is a horror show unseen presence who tries to slowly drive me insane by taking me in endless short loops where I don't want to be. How do I drive to every fucking suburb imaginable to look at cars without nav? And someone to help me pick out a car? I know dick about cars. And someone to help me take possession of my new car and return the rental car? Enter Val. A man who works days can't do all this shit for you. And neither will some men who work nights (yeah I'm lookin' at you, Drummer Boy).

I get Goldie tomorrow with temp Indiana plates. The plates are the key to my free resident beach pass. Like my near the beach house, I agreed to buy Goldie without seeing her in person. Val vetted her. I want personalized permanent plates that say Goldie with sand dunes and waves and a sunset in the background. Ideally. I don't actually know if they make that. And Goldie might actually be tan. But I told the girls on my text chain I'm not calling her fucking Tanner.

Before Val solved my problem, I had a nervous breakdown and was genuinely upset that I did not have access to a hand gun so I could kill myself. I could not see a way out of my predicament. I did not want to live if it was going to keep feeling like this. I have a longterm relationship with suicidal thoughts. Not because I regularly wanted to die in the times before COVID. I am merely an overthinker with a vivid imagination and unresolved issues make me cuckoo and I feel stuff too much. But this is the 1st time I really truly wished to die. 

Still super-pissed about my inability to get quick relief through a handgun headshot, I got Virginia Woolfe-ish, wondering if I might drown myself in the man-made lake at my apartment complex. I have asthma and already hate not being able to breathe. I tried smothering myself with my pillow and tapped out the minute it got suffocate-y. Then I thought about the lake again. It's full of goose poop and muskrats and likely tossed unjust greedy corporate pig-produced eviction notices. Too gross. So I called my aunt. And she called Val. Whom she had not met. And asked him to come get me. Presumably so I would not kill myself or continue to malinger in thoughts of such whilst alone. Val's pissed because he told my aunt he loved me before he told me. He blames her. She is a lawyer. People confess in her presence.

And tomorrow I have a car and Val took me to Urgent Care to get antibiotics for my sinus infection and I feel better and am now really glad I didn't kill myself. So let that be a lesson to you. And me.

Until Next Time, Sweeties!

Ness Sweet Ness