I went to bed pretty darn late last night. Now, for me late is 9:30 pm, 11:30 if I take my noon nap. Anyways, so I was up until about 1 am. Two girlfriends and I cried our eyes out for all different reasons. No feel good cries either. Sometimes I hate having ovaries, and feelings, and girlfriends and eyes that aren’t really crying just…..sweating it out.
I went to bed late, but woke up butt-fuck early. I simply couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned and finally around 6 am I went to take a leak and couldn’t go back to my sweet, sweet, uncomfortable slumber land. I have a head ache, I’m officially/unofficially off my medications, my heart is racing, I’m sweating and just have a not-so-good feeling.
FLASH FORWARD …
I am in my Sunday best (even though it is Wednesday). My Sunday best is comprised of sweats and moccasins.I haven’t had my coffee, my hair is not brushed and my make up still on from last night looks like a sad sad panda.
I am waiting outside of the TD Bank. As soon as the doors open I burst through like a child running away from Disneyland. I head up to the first bank teller I see and completely unload.
You see folks, last night at around 11:30 pm I went to the bank to deposit my hard earned mula. Now, it may seem odd that a young lady like myself is out depositing funds this late. But that is the way I roll/ I usually work nights so after each shift I drive to the bank closest to the homestead and deposit money. It ranges from xx amount to xxxx amount. So last night, after a busy night of work I deposit a significant amount of x’s into my account. The issue here is as soon as I put the money in the machine it read “Temporarily out of service” No joke. My wad of coinage closed the bitch down. No receipt, no money back and checking on my handy mobile banking app it showed no money whatsoever had been deposited. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!!! Clearly the little munchkin behind the machine had other ideas and decided to eat up my wad of green. SEE YA LATER!!!
So this is why I am here stroking out at the bank teller. I’m pleading my case, my ovaries are taking over and the waterworks start streaming down my face. Not only that, but the bank teller is pretty cute, and as I mentioned before I am not the most graceful of criers. I sound like Chewbacca rubbing one out. (So not lady like).
So the bank teller informs me that this stuff happens all the time and that I am not the first. Well, that is just fucking dandy, good to know my money is entrusted into this bank, really. It would have been nice to know the odds, ya know see the stats of how many people have their hard earned money taken away by these dirty machines. (Just throwing this out there…built by Jews?)
I am also informed that they filled out an ‘investigation’ form for me. Well, fuck. So will we be expecting Horatio Caine or the Scooby Doo Clan waltzing in here to solve the mystery. By the way….THERE IS NO FUCKING MYSTERY!!NOT AT ALL!! I DEPOSITED MY MONEY, YOUR MACHINE TOOK MY MONEY, NOW I DON’T HAVE THAT MONEY!!! MYSTERY SOLVED! I basically paid the bank to rob me.
Okay, so form filled out. I am then told it can take anywhere from 1 to 2 weeks. WHAT. THE FUCK. I am not waiting two weeks for my money, this is why I came in late the night previous, so I could have it straight away. If I knew I would have to wait that long I would have kept the bills rolled up in my tube socks. (Side note: I always have money on me. I have bills behind mirrors, in books, under my pillows, in my record player and tube socks apparently…I once found 200$ in a fanny pack I had boxed up to give to the Salvation Army, but last minute decided to keep my fanny pack. Thank goodness too. 200$ well spent at the casino playing slots….JUST KIDDING…I don’t play slots).
Crying, sad panda getting sadder, I’m spewing my poetics about their dumbass machine. I’m HERALDING my advice and apparently the bank strongly dislikes advice.
Nap time at home. You see, whenever I am upset, stressed or having feelings I pass the time by konking out. Seriously, who wants to be awake and feel the shittiness that is life. So to add to this deep shit that I am soaking up, I get a phone call from the ex asking if I had taken Plum.
Just to clear things up, when the ex and I were together we were a family of five. Him, myself, Olive our maniac of a kitty, Barrie St. Bernard and his little sister Plum. When we broke up I took Olive and Barrie St.Bernard while he left with his dignity and lil Plum and possibly a cactus.
So I get this call that Plum is missing. She wasn’t at his homestead. She must have gotten out and is going on her own little adventure. My heart just sank. Suddenly, everything I was so worked up about prior to, didn’t matter anymore. My lil baby was missing and the last thing I wanted was to see Plum’s mug on a milk carton or worse.
Barrie St.Bernard and I bust into Robin (our beautiful Jeep) and hit the road. At times like this you kind of wish throwing banana’s peels at cars was not only legal, but actually worked. So as we are flying down the highway, the ex calls and informs me that Plum has been found and she is in Juvi/the pound. Thank goodness, she is safe.
So I meet the ex and his mama at the Animal Shelter. A few hundred dollars later they bail her out of jail and also licensed her. Apparently, Plum has been an illegal alien in British Columbia for the past 6 months. Oops… I ask too take Plum for a day or so, which the ex agrees too. Even though she doesn’t live with me anymore the thought of anything happening to her kills me and I just need to hold her a little closer today.
At home, with my puppies. My head ache is fading. I have a bottle of wine and I’m watching the pups play with one another in the backyard. Sure, as soon as Plum was found all my thoughts of the whole bank issue was swarming in my head. But in moments like this, these things are rather medial. It is just money in the end, and it will work it’s way out. Plum is my family and I could have lost her today, but I didn’t and I would rather my family, than money.