Well, I didn’t go out yesterday because I had a strange sense that things might not be as busy as Uber was claiming they’d be, plus everything that was even open for Thanksgiving would have closed early and so it was likely to be a lot of drivers competing for very little payout. No thank you.
So today I resolved to start earlyish and get in a good day, thinking there would be people who’d want to stay the fuck home out of the Black Friday madness. Plus there was a quest.
Nah. It was still stupid. I didn’t even make half what I did Tuesday.
To be fair, I quit early. But my car’s also making me nervous. It needs an oil change, for starters; I’m likely going to put that other quart into it tomorrow just to be on the safe side. I figure if I could go two changes with the same filter because someone fucked up an oil change last year, I can go a little longer than 5000 miles adding in — this car’s an oil burner, apparently. But that’s not the worst thing. I’m hearing a squealing sometimes when I turn corners in parking lots. It’s not all the time, so I’m suspecting it needs topped up on power-steering fluid or perhaps even a flush and refill of same. I feel like if it were the belt or something else solid and mechanical I’d be hearing it all the time. But of course I can’t know for sure til a mechanic looks at it. I probably have the money for that but I still have to pay rent.
(Elizabeth has told me she knows a good mechanic who works for cheaper. I’ve heard nothing more about it and hadn’t wanted to pester — this was back when Pat was still alive, but he was taking his turn for the worse.)
I still have to drive it but I can’t see the point when things aren’t being very productive. If things had been bangin’, I’d have kept going and taken the risk. And they wanted me to do stupid shit like run to Marysville for ten dollars. I can’t wholly blame Uber either. This is assholes not wanting to tip. Again. Probably taking a fucking coupon discount too — Uber offers those, yes, but customers have to choose to use them.
Forgot to mention. The other thing that happens is I see active restaurants all around me on the fucking map but get trash calls and not nearly often enough for the amount of activity. It’s got to be heated competition with other drivers. I cannot fathom what else it could be unless Uber itself is throttling me. What the fuck?
And this was all following my fun little adventure this morning when I was getting myself sorted to leave and took out the trash. I then stepped over toward my car to get a bottle to fill for drinks on the go — and somehow I stepped wrong and fell again. At least this time I caught myself. No more nose mishaps and frankly, I can’t afford to have any more. I could have afforded the urgent care too, but (1) I have to pay my rent and (2) there would have been more of a bill because I’d have insisted on an x-ray. Bad juju, B’wana. But meanwhile, nose is fine but knees are very unhappy, particularly the left one which got the brunt of it. I got around okay, including a second-floor apartment, but I’m gonna be a little ouchy for a few days. Surface pain, thank fuck, not structural.
I wonder how many more times I can fall on these knees without breaking something important. I used to trip on sidewalks while running quite frequently when I was little. I’ve had a few falls on concrete floors and the like between then and now. I’m sure they’re not made of titanium naturally. I’m just thinking at some point I may need some titanium ones.
Sigh.
Every time something like this happens I’m reminded that if something really bad happens no one’s going to give a shit, that the only reason I ever hear from anyone is because they want something from me, that I need to be very very careful because I am all on my own. But I can’t predict or prevent everything.
It reminds me of Sandy, too, and how she had a massive heart attack and they found her in her mother’s house. No one said how long she’d been there but I can’t imagine it was pleasant. She had ended up split from her husband and their son had stayed with him. I think she and the kiddo were on better terms than Thea and I are (or Sean and I for that matter) but maybe that’s not saying much.
These men, they knock us up and then parade themselves around like fifteen seconds and squirt is landing on the fucking moon and then when they don’t want to look at us anymore they take the kid and run, or in this case hold on to the kid and watch us go. We’re nothing. They even convince the kids we’re nothing.
I wish I had an easy answer. I’m tapped, I’m afraid. As long as young women do the same fucking thing I did and think to themselves, Oh, MY man’s not LIKE that! He’s special! He gets me, and don’t listen to older women warning them what’s ahead, we’re gonna keep on going with this fucking fail spiral. And keep falling behind.
…
I’m fighting myself so hard and I don’t know which way to go. Every possibility is terrifying, I can’t trust myself to maintain even if I do improve my fortunes, and I don’t even know what I’m doing it all for. I go with an option, I fuck it up, and then I wind up worse off.
…
People pretending I don’t exist except when they want me to entertain them in some way isn’t exactly helping.
Nothing I can do about it though. Not and keep what’s left of my integrity. It’s all I’ve got ’cause God only knows the rest of you bail at the bat of an eyelash. Fuckers.