Greta Garbled

I don’t know how better to describe my state as of late except garbled.  Physical ailments, psych ailments, cat/kitten issues (one kitten died for no reason I can discern), and oh, right, that death trap of a car that keeps flooding with gas and exhaust, causing my physical ailments, not to mention stalling in the street in a way that is gonna cause a wreck.

It’s all enough to make me want to throat punch someone. Throat punch a lot of someones.

So R made time, I cut some budget corners to have the money, and he worked on that MAF sensor Friday night.

The car has been running worse ever since. I mean, way worse. More stalling, more flooding, more dying. Driving that fucking thing is pure misery. And every time I drive it, I get a headache and during the week when she’s at school…I end up falling back to sleep. Though some of that may be the fact that it’s now April but Ickannoy weather has decided to remain cold and windy like fucking March and I don’t function well when cold. I just want my blankies.

Proof it’s not just me but in fact the weather was when he did work on the car that night and even he was freezing between the wind and temp. This shit sucks. Sucking worse is the money I just put into that car and it didn’t change a fucking thing and now I am on hold until he gets more time and I miraculously happen upon more money. Meanwhile…driving that car is a living hell. I want to blow it up. I want to set it on fire.

Mostly I just want the problems fixed so it will run reliably. Is that so unrealistic and bratty?

According to my asshole father it is. He was on last night about some old Chevy for sale down the street for nine hundred bucks so if I really hate this car, I should sell it and put the money towards that one. HUH?

For whatever reason the assholes around me think “child support” means lump payments every month rather than dividing seventy bucks between two weeks for all that might arise. If I had nine hundred cash laying about I’d take the fucking car to an actual mechanic and pay to get it all worked out. R is brilliant with cars, don’t get me wrong. His free time to work on them is limited and meanwhile, for all I know, I could be driving this death trap and poisoning myself and my child all the while my dad thinks it’s some sort of spoiled brat  issue.


Of course, talking to my dad is pointless. In fact, the whole time I was trying to explain the car’s issue he reverted back to telling me how bad my old Caprice was and how it was all my fault because I don’t drive properly and I am too rough on cars. I mean, that old lady slamming into the front fender and knocking everything out of alignment years ago probably didn’t do as much damage as me hitting pot holes, right?

About the ONLY thing in my life I’m not having much trouble with is my child. She hasn’t seen my mother in a week and I started a new reward system thing that she seems to respond to, so one screaming mimi in a week…My mom is apparently the devil even if well intentioned. Or my kid knows she can play us against each other and grandma will yell at me thus making me more likely to let her have her own way. I am proud to say I have grown a spine and it is made of cast iron. I said one month, no sleepovers with grandma, then she can have one. IF she throws another fit upon coming home, back to a month of nope.

I like to think I am trying to teach her the lesson of consequences to behavior. I have also been trying to undo what my mom instilled in her that everything is disposable and if you break it or ask for more, you will get it handed to you.

This is proving to be a fail, thanks to well meaning people. We were at the store last night and she has her little wallet so when she found I toy, I told her the price and to count her money to see if she had enough. She came up short so I said, no, find something you can afford. To my chagrin some perfect stranger decides she feels sorry for my poor deprived child and gives her a dollar bill. As she walked by me she said, “I remember what it was like to be a kid and not have enough money.”

Well meaning, but completely usurping my parental authority and the very lesson I was trying to teach my daughter. This is what I mean when I say nothing good ever comes from the petri dish.

R is on a downward spiral with taxes eating him alive and business dwindling so I can’t even earn my car parts by helping him out. Which means I am probably gonna get killed in this death trap before I have enough excess cash for whatever its many ailments are. He can’t help out and I guess he asked his wife to help and she didn’t speak to him for a day because well, her six figure income is hers and his low income is hers, too.

Yet he wants to spew venom at me for getting disability income.

I have another computer his cousin brought in that I need to go through. It’s XP at least and I know Maggie will proffer up some sort of payment. Which will go into my gas tank cos this car is so fucked up it’s only getting ten miles a gallon. For a V-6. Goblins must be eating it.

I told him I’d come in today to keep him company. I don’t want to. I am PMS-y and my digestive issues have been kicked up the last week, all I want is to stay home near a bathroom and bottle of Tylenol.

I called the dr office as I said and they got back to me. Raised the lithium to 1200  a day when what I wanted was my prozac increased. I don’t care what their propaganda says, mood stabilizers have never once helped me with a depression. Certainly not one that’s been going on this long. And him  seeing me every two months but making me jump through hoops for med refills or to talk to his staff is pissing me the fuck off. I tell him I’m about to break down, he decided to see me in two months. Sounds logical.


Okay. Back to binge watching Judging Amy. (Don’t you judge me, ha ha.) Fiction’s the only world I have left that doesn’t give me ulcers or hives.

Sad but true.



7 Responses to “Greta Garbled”

  1. Strongs………..

  2. This weather sucks. Cars that need work suck. Not having money to take care of (a) child(ren) sucks. People suck. It’s all just fucking sucks. At least you can enjoy your fiction. I can’t even enjoy my game time (I look at the screen and black the fuck out like WTF am I doing/wtf do I do) Judging Amy was a damn good show. No judging your fictional food

    • I think what bothers me most of all is my dad and R treated this car issue like I’m somehow overreacting. I know cars are not supposed to lose power and stall in the middle of roads, ffs.
      Neither of them will take it for a drive to see for themselves, that’s insulting too.

      • That’s asinine. Fuck them (and fuck you two) {Eminem is perfectly suited to this atm} And if course they’re going to act like that because you’re a woman and therfore you know nothing about cars. Fucking ignorant fucks. I’m on a roll. No your car should NOT do that. And the fact your dad is helping about ANOTHER car just shows his narcissistic attitude and demeanor towards women. Fucking cockbags

  3. heatherruark Says:

    Can you take the car to a shop where they’ll tell you what exactly is wrong and give you an estimate to fix it? Or even a Pep Boys or similar parts store where they have the diagnostic machines? They don’t usually charge you and maybe they can tell you what is wrong. At least you would know for sure what you’re dealing with.

    • I’ve had it hooked up to three different diagnostic machines, they all throw an error code for some temperature sensor which does not explain half the symptoms. It’s kind of like being told the needle is in the middle of the haystack yet it’s gonna take six years of searching to find it even with a vague idea.
      I am hoping at some point R and his son in law will brainstorm on it all but they are so busy, it’s a waiting game. PLus so cold, no one wants to do it and I don’t fault them on that. 😉

  4. I’m glad that Spook is behaving better. Sounds like keeping her from your mom is a good plan. Maybe you can charge your mom to see Spook!

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