Little Worried

 

What I finally ended up doing with that tray and other items I picked up at the resale shop. I take my coffee and tea seriously. Not seen, my CR coffee pour over, my French press and the Keurig I took from my mother's house.

I need coffee so badly right now. Bad crazy asthma. Bad crazy asthma anxiety.

And so Miss O has continued spamming me after I told her in no uncertain terms that I could not drive her, lend her my car or arrange her transportation with friends. I told her those were my final words and to not bug me. Her emergency was not my responsibility to fix. She's still sending reams of words. I am not reading them, shunting them down the garbage chute with all the other nutcase ravings that get sent to me regularly.

Since then I have heard from two different folks that she brags about being a "bulldog" who never accepts a no, or stops asking because she knows she can wear anyone down. Whelp, she has met the immovable object that I am, filled with a vast amount of stubbornness, allergies to bullshit and a fair dash of contrarianism lurking.. 

This week was horrible even before she appeared with her nagging. I have been madly scrambling to three day express this or that document for the closing on my mother's house on Monday. My aunt apparently does not remember having a copy of any of the paperwork. She's going through quite the horrible time with her husband and his cancer treatments. I spoke to her 90 minutes on Tuesday and again today. She's rattling apart from the stress. See why I have no patience for the nonsense of Miss O. More important things afoot that her car emergency. 

The deaths of two people I have long admired greatly, Dolly Parton and Tim Curry, also added a layer of sadness.

I am dealing with some of the worst crazy anxiety because of my chronic illness too. I am sort of rattling apart too. 

In the midst of this the husband came home. I warned him not to post publicly he's back in CR because Miss O will pounce on that and turn on her "Poor pitiful me!" song and dance to try and guilt him into driving her around. It's not like this place isn't swimming in taxis, both official and the pirate ones. The bus system here is great, heck I have taken it to and from the airport sometimes. You can always pony up the 25 bucks for the transfer shuttles, or just rent a car. After I found out she's sitting on a huge amount of money in cash my oppositional defiance disorder butt is even less likely to help her.

The danger zone happens tomorrow. Art classes. She's usually there with bells on and since she's lost twenty pounds she's swanning about trying to show off and pitch her ridiculous weight loss "drops" as the be all end all. The fake persona she exhibits when showing off for new people in our community is pretty stomach turning. If she doesn't have her car back she's sure to try and bum a ride with us, and try to get a ride to church. She'll be incredibly false, pretending we're friends while negging me hard during the lesson. I am going to pop a gummy before I go. I will be hard pressed not to tell her that effing bulldog act is actually bullying. It's literally the most "Karen" thing a woman can do. Accept the no graciously because nobody owes you anything, and move along.  

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