It’s My Fault… How?

Well, this weekend was FUBAR’d.

Well, actually, only today was.

Today should have been a day off. It’s Presidents’ Day here in the U.S., so there’s no mail, government offices are closed, banks are closed, and, normally, there’s no school.

As of Thursday, the bus driver, the monitor, and I all thought we had today off (which is why Demon Dog had an appointment to get his nails trimmed today, but more on that later).

Just after 5:00 Friday I got a text from one of the people at my agency telling me that my student had school on Monday. I immediately called in hoping he was there and working late because he sometimes does on Fridays, but it rolled to on-call person. I told him I’d just gotten a text from N and that I couldn’t work on Monday because I had plans.

And somehow J turned it into being my fault for making plans on a school day, even though it wasn’t a school day when I made the plans. I did end up managing to get this morning off, but had to work this afternoon.

So, since I wasn’t going to be able to be home this afternoon, we decided not to go with the pre-sedation sedation, as he’s never had those medications before.

Then, somewhere around 6:30 this morning, my roommate and I passed each other on the way to/from the bathroom, and she said she was thinking about canceling his appointment because she didn’t like the idea of him being home alone while coming out of anesthesia. We both know on a logical, intellectual level that he’d most likely be fine, but there is that part that worries, you know?

So now she’s taking him on Thursday (she’s off) and he will be pre-sedated.

And I spent most of my weekend lost in Disney+ because I was so ticked off about the school situation that I needed an escape.

But now today is over, I survived, and I’m praying for a snow day on Friday.

And still trying to figure out how it was my fault.

(And, yes, I know. This wasn’t exactly writing-related, except that the emotions may make it into a novel someday, along with the attempted guilt-tripping and gas-lighting.)



Filed under writing

2 responses to “It’s My Fault… How?

  1. Good luck. Been right there, trembling with frustrated irritation, trying to figure out how to channel it into something creative. Unfair of more willing vessels of frustration to cross our paths when we’re trying to cope with frustration. (wry grin)

  2. Susi

    J is an arrogant p*****. He is the reason why I refuse to work for your agency.

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