Harassed by a Harpy & Stuff Happens

As forecast, the temps jumped up again today to the mid-nineties with the humidity rising, as well. Took off to run errands at 7:15 this morning timing every stop to coincide with their opening times.  Worked like a charm.

With the cooler filled with foodstuffs and all items, except 1 crossed off my list, I felt pretty good as I drove home to unload. I arrived to find an over-achiever's  BMW blocking the driveway. I couldn't lug everything from a parking space across the street or down the block, so I sat in the car and honked the horn.  Within a few minutes the over achieving owner materialized from a stand of bamboo looking frightfully annoyed - she is a real estate agent (figures.) showing the house next door and was not amused by the noise I was making.  She screamed an obscenity me as I rolled down the window and smiled, asking her to move her car, or would she prefer I call the city towing service? The city is very strict about these things.

She: you're not supposed to park in that driveway.
Me: You are not allowed to block driveways or any area marked and painted in yellow.
She: I have a very important client with me right now and have no time for this S**T!
Me: I suggest you make the time NOW before your client decides that you're not the person he wants to work with. Honey, your true colours (and claws) are showing big time. Just move the car and go back to your business. (There were spaces across the street where she should have parked in the first place. Lazy bitch!)
So, she fumbled for the keys, got in and drove down the street at high speed.  I was shocked.  There are kids playing on this street. WTF was she thinking? 

I drove the car into the driveway and began to bring things up to the apartment; then I hear this screech of brakes as she skids to a stop in a space across the street behind (and almost hitting) the Subaru in front of her.  The Subaru belonging to my neighbor Ryan, who you wouldn't want to have this kind of conversation with, even in one of his good moods, fortunately was untouched.

She:  There! You happy now? You've probably F**ked up my sale here.
Me:   No, I'm not happy at all.  I didn't park you car across the entrance to a driveway. YOU did that!
She: You need to explain why you harassed me instead of parking somewhere else.
Me: Honey, I live here - and I don't need to explain anything to anyone, you in particular. Just let it go and try not to make more of an ass of yourself than you have already.
She: Listen, I know your landlord and I am going to have your ass evicted by the end of the month, old man. (Old man, huh bitch? OK sweetheart, velvet gloves are off.) 
Me: In that case, please be so kind as to tell Dennard and Charlotte that the Cajun in Apartment 3 sends his best regards and looks forward to our Sunday breakfast together at the Royal Treat the weekend after Labor Day.  He'll know who you're talking about.  Do you think you can remember all that, or shall I write a note you can deliver to him?  Hm?

With that she gave me a pissy look, then swept across the street and lawn next door and disappeared into the house. I was surprised she didn't slam the door.  But then, there was the 'client' to appease and pamper - and lie to. Phony people always make my skin crawl. Today is almost walked!

Straight bitches should never attempt to compete with a Quean on his own turf. I can't wait to find out her name and what realtor she "represents" - poorly.  It's a small town, a. very. small. town.

After unloading the car I had no trouble finding another parking space across the street, this one in the shade. A good thing because the buggy will sit there for another week and the cooler, the better.

This was not the high point of the day, however.  I finally reached a live, coherent human when I called the Medical Billing Center, who was a great help in clearing up the stoopid that their office created almost 3 months ago.  This breathing humanoid said that everything was in order and I should receive a new statement shortly.  Yes, well, I will rest easy only after that revised statement arrives in the mail...still it's a positive step to ending this medical nightmare worthy of a Marx Brothers movie plot. We shall see.

I am in the middle of doing a second load of laundry and I am getting tired.  When the dryer stops for the last time I will enjoy a festive cocktail and prep dinner.  It's almost 5 o'clock now, isn't it?  Please say, YES!

I haven't enjoyed a bitch-slapping like this one today,  in a very long time. All things considered, not a bad day at all.


And so it goes.
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