A Mad Day in Hell

You know those days when NOTHING, and I mean nothing you do seems to go right. It started off okay, but then I had to pick up a food package during work hours. It's not THAT easy to tell my boss I need to skip work for 1/2 hour during the day - he gets nervous about it. He was in meetings all day - away from the office. I snuck out at 9:15 am, thinking I'll only be 1/2 hour and will get back before they take their break at 10:00 and he may want to call me for whatever reason. I get to the food bank and the people inside cannot open up their door. It's lock. It's stuck. They don't think about letting the 4 people waiting in line through the other door. So we wait and wait. And I'm getting more and more stressed. I ask everyone in line if they wouldn't mind me going before them for the pick up because my work needs me and no one understood me. They all spoke and understood Russian. At least that was what they told me. Russki, Russki. After a 20 minute wait, with my heavy bags, I try to hail a taxi, but there's hardly a taxi in sight, even though it's a busy intersection. Someone sneaks up a half a block ahead and hails MY taxi. But she must have felt my vibes because she let me into the cab.

The taxi ride was slow and painful. There was so much traffic because streets are closed due to the 40 dignitaries from around the world who have come to Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Memorial re-opening ceremony. I called work -

"I'm on the way. If he calls, tell him I'm in the bathroom and I'm sorely constipated."

This in front of the cab driver and the other passenger. I was beyond embarrassment by this time.

Fortunately, I didn't miss any calls, except for the one I didn't want to get - like the one from my son's school telling me they got a fax from the junior high saying it is final that he did not get it. Like fuck it's final. I cried during lunch because of the school's pompousness in not trying to help me with my kid. They were working against me and I felt it. In narrow-minded places, of where there is not a shortage here in this country, they look at the entire family and if something isn't right, then the whole lot isn't good. So my ex-Criminal Daughter had ruined her own reputation at that elementary school, and even though my son is much different, they don't see it that way. They figure he'll turn out just like her. So, he's probably branded as a "would be" criminal.

Then I get another call from the social worker telling me that my ex-Criminal daughter will have to go to her "lock-up" school - a reformatory of sorts - for three months, beginning on Monday. I can't get in touch with her to tell her. I feel pangs of parental guilt that it went this far with her.

Then after my haranguing phone calls I tried to sort things out in my head by blogging. Trying to post yesterday's post took me ages because I kept on gettng error messages each time I sent it for publishing. The one time I didn't copy what I had written on a word document, it didn't take and my writing was not anywhere to be found in cyperspace. I had to write it all over again. But when I checked my blog an hour later all THREE versions showed up. Go figure.

I get home and look for the stove lighter to make dinner. It's 8:00 and I'm starving and so is my son. He told me the Nasty Daughter took the lighter into her room to light up her cigarettes. I ran upstairs to look for the lighter and her door's locked. I ran downstairs and yelled - That's IT - there's be NO DINNER TONIGHT 'COS I CAN'T LIGHT THE BLOODY STOVE!

Good son comes to the rescue. He is calm, cool and collected.

"I can buy matches for you at the Russian store."

I slip him a 5 and don't care if he brings me back any change.