Taro (mother2012) wrote,

The most awful day ...

of a bad week of a not good year.

First, though, about Mary's accident. She was pretty banged up, of course, but worst was banging her bad knee. The one they've been trying to get her to replace for years, that the bone is peeling like an onion. So she's going on disability and going to have the replacement done in January.

Last night, Daughter, boyfriend, and I played a new war game until 4:00 am. When we stopped, and I realized what time it was, I knew we were in trouble because Hubby wasn't home yet. He got picked up for drunk driving.

We've been telling him that he was getting worse and drinking more, and he couldn't be doing it anymore, but the money is his, the car is his, and by damn he can go out drinking and dancing if he wants to!

Well, not any more.

I hunted for information. Where was the car? When was the arraignment and where? I concluded I had to be at court at 9:30 am. So on an hour of sleep, I collected up parkas and ID, and printed out a bus schedule and took off. Fortunately, I didn't try to do it without a crutch. I caught the right bus, got downtown, and limped over to the court building.

It is *not* Hubby's fault that I ate daughter-in-law's Christmas cookies and can barely walk. I hurt severely by the time I got there.

And found out that since he was arrested after 3:00 am, they didn't have time to do the paperwork, so his arraignment will be tomorrow. Maybe. If they didn't misspeak. I can't imagine they will do that on Sunday. So there he sits. My husband. In jail.

Fortunately, a kindly officer gave me a phone number which led to locating my car. It was by then 10:30, and I had to pick it up by noon or they would be closed. Then I couldn't get it until Monday. I called my son who came down and took me to the car. Very lucky. Only $125, because it hadn't been there long enough to charge me for a day's storage. On Monday, it would have been $100 more.

So with the car, I went home to get Hubby's Christmas present book to take to him. I get back down there and the parking is horrible. I drag my leg (literally) across a block or two and up the steps. There is a long line. In the rain. They wouldn't let visitors in until 12:30. We waited.

Someone came out and said line up at the foot of the steps. - Back down? You seriously want me to go back down? - No, that's all right, you can wait here. - Then they let me in first, telling me I'd be first in line. I go through metal detector and down a corridor (dragging leg) to be told that I don't have a number. Where does the number come from? Outside down the steps. I have to go back to the end of the line.

Back to end of line. Sorry, we're out of numbers, we only go to 100.

After - painfully - getting myself back to the car, I just sat there and bawled for a long time. Between pain, lack of sleep, and worry for my husband, I just couldn't keep it together.

I'm home, but still crying. He called Mary and she told him I was down there to see him. And I won't be.
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