Today, I ventured
out of the house. This was a big deal. I went into town to do errands (a little shopping
and banking) today for the first time in about a month.
I haven’t been out of the house for about a
month with the exception of a few job interviews. I have no income and I really have no need or
reason to leave the accouterments of my casita: my squishy fuzzy pets, the internet, and a comfy couch. I’m wildly fortunate to
have a boyfriend who has bought all of our food and beverages, and parents who
have subsidized my portion of the rent during the last few months that I’ve been desperately
searching for a job.
The moral support my
wonderful man and my saint parents provide is invaluable and could never be
quantified in a dollar amount.
If I didn’t
have this support network in place,
I’d undoubtedly be out on the median,
holding a very artsy and grammatically correct cardboard sign,
soliciting some
money from you as you sit in your car at the stop light,
averting eye contact,
fingers nervously tapping a neurotic rhythm on your steering wheel to the beat
of the talk radio on your car stereo;
waiting
for the light to turn
GREEN.
Mine would say: "Homeless Out of WORK ANYthing helps.
God is a figment of your imagination"
The errand
run should have been a simple task. Bank to
deposit a check from my Mom, get some gas, drop of rent, pick up hygiene products
at Target, go home.
What transpired was
exactly the opposite; an emotional roller coaster.
I pulled into the gas station, began pumping
gas, pressed PRINT to get my receipt.
Usually, I don’t print a receipt, but since I have limited funds,
I
figured I might as well track each penny.
I considered picking up the fifty-two cents (two quarters and two pennies)
that the guy at the pump before me had left on the ground after filling his portable, 1-gallon gas tank with gas and skated off on his skateboard. I decided to leave it for someone else who probably needed it more.
Meanwhile, an old, white Ford truck with a bed FULL (stacked 15 feet) of
junk,
pulled up to the pump in front of me, our vehicles facing off.
Asshole inside the truck started cursing at
me for staring at the gas pump,
as I waited for my tank to be “filled”. He could not extend the gas nozzle far enough
to reach the gas tank in his truck, so he was yelling at me to move my truck
back.
On his way in, he cut off two other drivers and left his truck’s rear end
sticking out two feet into the road adjacent to the gas station.
I took my
time.
So he revved his engine, and cursed out his
window at me until I left.
Old Lacy would have yelled "Fuck off ASSHOLE! Wait your fucking turn!"
But new, negative-zero-self-esteem, way-too-tired-of-this-shit-to-exert-any-effort-of-retaliation-Lacy could only muster the pathetic response:
"You're so RUDE! What the heck?!"
I had a few homicidal
thoughts about buying a gun at Walmart, then, I lost it.
I cried all the way to the bank.
What the fuck is wrong with people?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
