“Demons do not exist any more than gods do, being only the products of the psychic activity of man.”~ Sigmund Freud

There comes a point where your body says "enough" and takes you down, out for the count, forces you to stop.  I assumed my emotional and physical exhaustion was from facing and coping with my dog having cancer.

It looks like he'll be okay, for now, but the lump on his neck brought me face to face with the inevitable fact that we outlive our pets (unless you have a turtle).  The good news is that he's fine, for now. The bad news is that I spent the last bit of money I had to begin treatment, despite the very generous discount I received from my girlfriend who happens to be an extraordinary veterinarian.

I've been living this way for four years now.  Month-to-month, week-to-week, sometimes day-to-day and somehow, someway we always find a way to make ends meet.  I work as much and as hard as I can to bring in income with my goal in constant mind to be here WITH and for my children.  That has been and I feel even more strongly now a non-negotiable.  My primary title in this world is At Home Mom.

I work for cash, I work for barter/trade, I work for percentages and points with a prayer that it will have a pay-off.  I work smarter, not harder, most of the time and know too well that I am to count my blessings for what I've been able to create for myself without sacrificing my goals.

A funny thing happened on the way to buy pet food (dogs, cats, rabbit, guinea pig) - we're completely out.  Jake and I joked about why they couldn't all just eat each other and then wagered to guess who'd be the last man standing and we concurred that our five-pound Chihuahua would be the sole survivor as we continued this conversation that more resembled a screen-play for a sick B movie.  We love our animals, there's no doubt about that but when times are tough the commitment to them looms over me and I wonder if they add too much stress to our financial lives.  It doesn't matter - they're family and you won't see me dumping any of my kids soon cause they simple "eat too much."

We go to pick up my monthly pay from my favorite client who likes to pay me through MoneyGram. Drives me nuts, I've given him other options, choices that actually would cost him less, but he's stubborn and this is how I receive my retainer from him.  Jake reminded me on the way back home from the early morning vet visit with two words "MoneyGram. DogFood."  Well it sounded like two words.  So I veered into the parking lot and you won't (well you probably will considering the title of my blog IS Lady Luck) believe what happened next...


I've learned to muster up a lot of patience in my old age but I was fairly vocal about my irritation with the phone. I always bring a Lysol wipe but the last two visits have had me standing in the lobby of a very large chain store essentially YELLING my home address, my phone number and my Driver's License number.  Don't you find it ironic that they "need" this information for security purposes yet MY privacy doesn't matter?

I figured someone else would complain. I figured they did routine maintenance checks on these gadgets.  I figured someone else would have the same concerns that I did.

But as I stood there having neuro-associations and flashbacks, I was irritated enough by the Indian voice on the other line asking me to REPEATEDLY repeat my home address and spell it, my patience was worn.

I asked for the manager then proceeded to inform them of the last two years I have spent in criminal court over stalking that had stemmed from THAT VERY ISSUE.  I complained very loudly that I was annoyed that MY privacy was irrelevant in order to get MY money using their service - one of two available in my small town and the other place charges a service - a fairly noticeable in the range of money that I charge my clients.

I'm not paranoid. I am smart, well at least now I am. And if I can save someone else from going through the trauma of a year and a half court case because some jack-off got her phone number while she was having to YELL it for the person in India to hear her properly, then I did my good deed for today.

I wish the story ended with me walking away from that counter to purchase four bags of pet food, but it doesn't.  Nope. That would be too easy, right?

I actually felt a little bad for the long line of people behind me, some waiting for the same service, as I stood there patiently hoping the power in that machine would come back on.  It wasn't unplugged; all the connections were good.  Quoting the manager, after ten minutes of trying says "This has never happened before. Never."  Now this stupid demon is fucking with others' lives.  Well played, demon, well played.  I want to lash out and call him names, hell GIVE him a name and tell him to get the fuck OUT of my life and stop screwing with the most simple, mundane tasks.  If there's something I've learned in my studies about demonic presences it's not to fear them.  But I guess I need to start researching how to interact with them when I'm pissed off.
 
I'm getting use to reading/hearing the comment "You have the worst luck of anyone I know!"  Since I'm a bit of a hermit I guess I have to believe that observation.  Or maybe this demon, or this curse, has been with me so long that it's become normal.  You see this shit in movies. Most people pay to be entertained by the shivers up their spine and goosebumps from the thought that it COULD happen.  Or maybe people think it's only in fiction that spirits exist - good and bad

My day would not end with this set-back and lack of food in the house for the cats who got a can of chicken soup, the dogs that had to share the last two cups of dog food with cheese slices tossed in, and the guinea pig screaming his needs for something of substance other than an apple.

Normally I'd feel irresponsible for not driving out of town to handle my finances and guilt over the pets in my care having to make do.  The problem is when you walk into your own home from a few minor errands, all accomplished before 10am, and faint you have to get on the "The best way to take care of others is to take care of yourself first" train. At first I feared it was another stroke. I had the ability, right before passing out, to yell to Jake "I'm passing out" and recovered within ten minutes to tell him "that was scary" BEFORE he dialed 9-1-1 (again).

Writing out this blog is the first time I've gotten up today.  The illness, virus, or bug that overtook my body told me in no uncertain terms that I would accomplish NOTHING today.  Today is the first time I've told my boyfriend that I'm not interested in seeing him.  That I'm not ready for the step in our relationship where my house is in complete shambles, laundry strewn everywhere, festering towels needing to be walked out to the washing machine from the results of this virus in me and my sons. 

If I were able to cash out my MoneyGram today I'm not even sure I'd have to strength to call the Take-Out Maid Service I need.

At least I still have my sense of humor.  What I really need is an exorcist, a ghost hunter and a priest. Back to bed to cuddle with my two-gallon metal bowl.