George sneaks into the house at night. After my post, I purposed to say something when he returned home. It's a ranch style, so right inside the front door you can go upstairs to the kitchen, livingroom, or his three rooms and two bathrooms--or downstairs to the laundry room, den, my bedroom, my bathroom, or garage. So I was tucked away in my room and barely heard him open the door. He slipped off his shoes and then I heard nothing more. Didn't hear him go up the steps or anything. Didn't notice if he turned on a light. Don't know if he went to the kitchen to eat, or just put something in the fridge. Nothing.
That's what makes me think he was either drunk or high or both. Because my lights were on, and I don't sleep with them on. He knew I was awake. And most times, he calls down to me when he comes in to say hello or something--anything really. And that's what I was waiting for. I was going to respond, then ask him what movie he went to see after he dropped me off at the car dealer. Have a little convo and whatever else he may have wanted to chat'bout. Nothing. I haven't spoken to him since the dealer.
Well, that's too bad. I'll keep trying because I said I would, but at least now I know that it's not just me. As I told you in my history with George--he knows how to lie. He wants me to believe he's been sober since the rehab, so when he goes out to drink, or smoke crack, or whatever, he's not interested in talking. Which suits me fine--but does him no good. And I don't want to force a conversation with him, or expose his inebriation, because I don't want to live in a constant state of confrontation and performing interventions.
So that's all I'm going to say about that right now.
In other news, I had another bank relapse. Two actually. Last week, my gym charged me more than I expected them to and pushed my balance into the negatives. Then two more debit charges appeared after that. Goodbye $105. I let it go because I still had savings in another account and I figured it was a punishment I deserved (I kept saying 'This is the last time!' but still I'm an idiot, so too bad for me). Then I had a payday and shortly thereafter, the accident. Then I did my taxes. Then I paid my insurance bill for the month. Then I rented a car, and they overcharged me to cover the rental without a credit card. Then they didn't refund me the money the same day I returned the car (still haven't, in fact. 2-3 business days, my ass). Then I had to lay down $100 surety for the new car. Then I had to gas up. Then I had to eat. Then ... then ... then ... and next thing I know, my whole paycheck is gone and I'm in the negatives again. And here comes three more debit purchases.
Goodbye ANOTHER $105.
I've already flogged myself, so I wont waste bytes repeating it. But My Friend The Doctor bailed me out again. I couldn't even call him this time. I just sent him an e-mail, informing him for the first time about the whole car situation plus the moneylessness. I couldn't ask him for $$ but the e-mail in itself was obviously a request. Which he knew instantly and responded. But aside from the money, he reassured me that I'm not the Crown Prince of all Sad-Ass Losers. He reminded me of my progress over the last year and under what kind of circumstances (See George; Former "My Benefactor", Postmodern Crackhead) that I managed to do it.
My Friend, The Doctor. He really wants to see me succeed. And I really want to. He believes in me. And I really want him to. He supports me, emotionally as well as financially. And I really need him to.
So that's alright then. And My Hero's a friend of mine too!
P.S.; note to self; GET A CREDIT CARD. Even though the interest will be 18%, like the car loan, a credit card would have saved me $210 dollars in overdraft fees for $35 worth of Starbucks and McDonald's, because I could have credit-carded the rental car instead of debiting it. And I can beat the interest if I pay the entire charge before the due date. The next spam application for credit, I'm filling out.