Scaring Crops and Wreaking Havoc
Spite wall behind the pool getting a nice coating of those fake plant walls. Just to break up the brown on the metal wall extension that takes the wall from ten feet to almost twenty. Contractors in and out right now, new gate, new security system, bathroom expansion with a tub and a sun room just to name a few.
Today church. I go only to support my husband. 30 year old worship music, and a sorry excuse for a sermon that was the thrice divorced pastor preaching to himself again. All pretty standard. This is how it goes every week. The problem started after church was over and the bane of my existence, the church secretary, came over with 15 YWAM kids. She was prancing around, showing off, and squealing that she was hosting them in her disgusting hovel of an apartment beneath her house.
YWAM, just like the old Teen Mania, has had their share of abuse and other very bad things. So I said very little to the kids. I'm not encouraging mission work by teens at all. It's utterly ridiculous that they come to Costa Rica, a nation with much more belief and church attendance than in the USA. Tried asking the kids what they were doing here, and none of them could scare up an answer as to what they were doing. The worst of white savior entitlement from where I could see.
The problem happened when the church secretary invited them to my house, MY HOUSE, to go swimming. I immediately shut that down. Not happening. Explained that it would overwhelm the chemical load in the pool, and we'd have to shock treat it, running the costs of the pool service we use up by about 40%! The nerve of that woman, inviting people to our pool. We only agreed to let her swim here a few times a week after a close friend begged us. If it was me I would have said no to her swimming because in the past its turned into a problem when she came swimming. I can see it's happening again. I still remember the time we were due at a party and she would not leave the pool. That day she stayed four hours. The fact that she tries to flirt with my husband is just the rancid cherry on top of this shit sundae.
We had just gotten very bad news last night involving his cancer. Looks like it's back to treatments again soon, which is going to complicate my needed trips to Louisiana.
Spent the afternoon ocean side at our dearest friend's brand new condo in Surfside. Wonderful afternoon.
The problems started when we got home. It's rainy season here, and our car port, has started to devolve into mud. I usually gingerly pick my way across the mud, but it was just too much today. I knew I'd slip. So I started around the car to the other side. Less mud and a concrete paver over the French drain. The problem happened the second I stepped on the paver, it shifted and dumped me unceremoniously me down into the muddy French drain, down about three feet. I swear I thought I might have broken a bone or tow, but no, eventually the husband helped me up. Covered head to toe with mud. Shower, bed.
Up now after a six hour sleep. I've sprained my right ankle badly and torn up the backs of my legs on the metal grating of the French drain. I can only painfully hobble about slowly, so I'm going to be bedroom bound for awhile. More crochet time I guess.
I have been grumbling for ages I wanted the husband to put a line of concrete pavers over that muddy patch. Needs to happen.
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