This week has been stressful, like I said towards the middle of last week. We did finally get our new fridge in and I'm having official First World Problems with it, like only a cluelessly over entitled middle class middle aged white woman would have. I have to actually bend down --bend down!!-- to look into it since I got the model with the up top freezer instead of the French doors and bottom freezer like last time when I got the Mercedes Benz of cold storage. Yeah, First World Problems.
I'm very fortunate and I know it.
Last week I had more than a few nights of insomnia before I managed to find some solutions to the things we're dealing with. The house is slowly being gutted of belongings. I decided my shoulder isn't bad enough to warrant three times a week physical therapy. I'm going to try to get a rabies vaccination waiver for my Siamese cat Pedro. He had cancer two years ago, he has Mast Cell Disorder and is likely to have another bout of cancer if they vaccinate him. Trying to find out now if I can get the requirement for the rabies vaccination waived because of his health issues. Better than trying to find a new home for him. He's my baby.
Other things are working out on their own and I managed to get through church, a few community events and phone calls with relatives without any ugly words or threats or gloating over the election results. Not all of my friends have been that lucky. Again, I realize this is white privilege at work again. One of the things Jim and I have looked at this week is where we can volunteer, or give funding or protest. Was going to originally go on several of the protest marches this weekend but I'm still suffering from a fever and the flu.
But today things are back to weird and funny, like usual. This morning I had to run out to get kitty litter. The weather has turned cold and none of my guys will go outside to relieve themselves any longer. While I was crossing the parking lot at my nearby grocery store I ran into Mr. 'No Fat Chicks'..
I first encountered him about three or four years ago in the same parking lot. He pulled up in his car, a car plastered with bumper stickers saying just that 'No Fat Chicks' and 'No Ugly Chicks' and his license plate reads some variation of 'No Ugly Girls'. He can be seen frequently wearing some sort of t-shirt with his jeans that has some sort of rude sentiment towards women, like the same thing on his car, 'No Fat Chicks' or 'Ask Me I Might' or my all time favorite 'Stud'. Seriously.
This isn't a young guy either. This man is on the wrong side of 60, not thin, not good looking or even particularly well groomed.
The day I met him he waved me over from the grocery cart corral, indicating I needed to help him out of his car and into his motorized scooter. I did help him out, he can barely walk, shuffling the few feet from the car into the scooter. At some point in this, while he was hanging onto my arm for support he made some sort of Lothario remark to me, like some ancient pickup line from the days before disco, very inappropriate and out of place at exactly the wrong moment. I smiled and told him I was married. He made a 'hrrupmp' type noise and told me I was too fat for him anyway.
I almost fell over on the ground laughing when he said this. It was so out of the blue.
So now when I see him at this store I go out of my way to avoid him and it seems likely that he might be half blind on top of things because I have noticed that he will wave women over for help, but only within a twenty foot radius or so.
Today he was headed out as I was headed in, resplendent in his 'No Fat Chicks' t-shirt and fleece pajama bottoms printed loudly with the legend 'BEER'. The basket of his scooter held a case of the cheapest canned beer. I bit my tongue to keep from giggling and stayed well out of the range of his limited sight.
Things are back to weird and weird I can handle better than stressful. Weird is good. God bless that poor 'No Fat Chicks' dude wherever he is.