From the Files of "If It Ain't One Thing, It's Probably Two Things"

I am Not. Having. A. Good. Day.

At all.

The most frightening part of it is, it's barely 8:00 AM.

A few days ago, in a spasm of productivity, I called to have someone come out and look at my windows, which don't latch properly. They said they would be out this morning between 8 and 9. Shortly before 8, I heard what I thought was my gate opening and closing. I moved the curtain to see if it was the window guy, but it wasn't.

What I DID see, however, was my truck, parked across the street where we'd left it Tuesday night.

Except, on Tuesday night?
It didn't have a boot on the rear tire.

In Chicago, you can be booted for 3 or more unpaid parking tickets. I knew I had reached this point, because they -did- send me the letter that said "Hey, you better pay these, or else." Unfortunately, they sent this letter in November, which put it squarely in the realm of Gets Paid Later.

There was another reason I placed it in that category, as well, one more psychological than practical: two of these tickets--the most expensive--belonged to LJ, not me. If HE'S not gonna pay them, I'M not gonna pay them, said my oppositional little brain.

But the Chicago Department of Revenue doesn't understand interpersonal difficulties OR popular psychology: they understand "three tickets and you're booted".

NEXT time, I will remember this.

THIS time, however, that's water completely and utterly under the dam. Or under the...

"*&)%@)@)#*&$@*)$&)*)*&!@#!*&@#*!_*(*!@*(#!$@$", which is what I said, several times over, as I picked up the phone to call my mom.

Mom's had a cold for a few days, and I've been calling her twice a day to check on her; last time she had a cold like this, it turned into pneumonia, and she spent a week in the hospital. She also mentioned that she's been having more and more incidents of arrhythmia lately--which usually resolve themselves, but they still scare her--and even more so because they've been happening more often.

So I called her this morning, to vent about the booting (and also for some financial assistance to deal with it) and she sounded AWFUL. I told her what had happened, and she told me she was going to call the doctor as soon as his office opened because she was feeling really rotten. A little while later she called back to tell me she was going to have one of her friends drive her to the E.R., on doctor's orders, to get checked out. (And of course he sent her to the farthest possible hospital.) I told her I was going to get the boot off my car--fortunately I still have some money in my account, thanks to a check which hasn't cleared yet--and that I'd wait to hear from her whether they were going to admit her or not. I'm fairly sure they will.

Needless to say, it was NOT a good time to drop my financial crap on her head. But of course, the minute I said I was booted, she knew. "How much do they want?" she asked.

"Seven," I mumbled.
"HUNDRED??? Jesus, Gladys!"
"Yeah, yeah, I know..."
This was followed by a series of dire warnings as to what will happen if I ever, ever take up with another moocher like LJ again, ever. "Strangle" was a word which appeared more than once, just for an example.

So now, I am off to the Department of Revenue office...Oh, what? You thought I could pay over the phone? Yeah, no. Once you're booted, you have to pay IN PERSON. I explained to the person on the other end of the phone at Revenue that in fact, they were making the demand for in-person payment on the group of people who were most likely to be unable to fulfill that demand--those people with immobilized vehicles--and they informed me that I could pay the TICKETS over the phone, but the $60 boot fee had to be paid in person before they could un-boot me.

Next time I'll remember--it's the Department of REVENUE, not the Department of LOGIC.

Of course, next time I won't be in this situation, because next time I'll have a JOB, and no mooching jackass boyfriend who parks in front of hydrants with an expired plate. (The other two tickets are mine, but they total $200, to LJ's $440. I could pay $200 fairly easily...$700 is a little harder. Tim says I should call LJ and tell him that if he doesn't come up with the money, I'm going to let them tow the truck and turn it into scraps; though he's right, I don't see it as a workable plan. Besides, I don't even want to talk to LJ right now--the stoopid crumb.)

So after I take the bus downtown and part with a large wad of cash, and after I get my car unbooted, then I get to worry about the fact that my mother is in the hospital and feeling crappy. The only thing that could POSSIBLY salvage this day is if the place where I interviewed last week would call me and offer me a job.

Otherwise? Today is officially a washout.

UPDATE, 9 PM: It could have been worse. The Department of Revenue let me set up a hardship payment plan, since I'm jobless, and so instead of $700 all at once, I paid $220 today and the rest over the next few months. Sometimes even a bureaucracy works, it seems.

Mom has been admitted to the hospital, which I'd pretty much expected. She's feeling tolerably well, but she's running a fever and the doctor wants a CAT scan of her chest to see what's going on with her lungs and her heart. Needless to say, she's not thrilled. I was able to visit her, though--by the time I got home from my trip downtown, the parking guys had already removed the boot.

There was even a little good news--I figured since I was in the neighborhood, I'd stop by the tax assessor's office and see about the refund they owe me for the last two years of overpaid property tax--seems I was entitled to an exemption I didn't get for '04 and '05. After going through the usual round of paperwork, I was told that in about four-and-a-half months, I should see a check for just about $1100, which is nothing to sneeze at.

Of course, hopefully I'll have a JOB by then...