A Woman's Gotta Do What a Woman's Gotta Do!

After years of dealings with places like the Social Security Administration, the Department of Health and Human Services, the Illinois Department of Employment Security and even the Department of Motor Vehicles (now called Drivers Services), I swore I would never again voluntarily sit amongst the masses waiting for my name to be called.  Never say never.

My apartment has little or no insulation.  There's no weatherstripping around the front door.  When I found out last summer that the building was in foreclosure, I didn't bother to even purchase curtains for the living room windows.  The mini-blinds don't offer much protection from the cold.  I have electric heat.  My electric bills have been, therefore, astronomical.

No longer a "service" provider, ComEd is a cold, inflexible entity staffed with drones and run by androids.  I have called them almost every month for the past 14 months.  Nobody I have spoken to was able the offer me any solutions other than refer me to their CARE program which in turn refers me to the local Will County Center for Community Concerns office.  It's a non-profit agency that helps low- and moderate-income people with programs like LIHEAP and HUD-based housing.

Don't get me wrong, it's great that there are places like WCCCC.  But why are they always in old buildings with outdated and/or worn furniture and bland colors?

 At WCCCC,  you can make an appointment for some programs.  For most things, it's a first come, first served basis.  What I needed was in the "most things" category.  You go, sign in and sit and wait. And wait. And wait.  Just to make things more interesting, the closest parking spaces are all metered.  They do make easier to take your money, though.  They have meters that accept credit and debit cards.  Isn't that nice?

I had checked Google Maps and found the location was less than five miles from me.  About a 10 minute drive.  They open at 8:00 a.m. but I got there at 8:30 a.m., hoping the initial rush had abated.  The place was full, but not packed.  I had optimistically paid for an hour on the parking meter.  After signing in, I found a seat and regretted not bringing my paperback book to read.  So I entertained myself by people watching.  There was a wide mix of ethnicities represented.

There was the family with four kids under the age of six.  They had to be there for some type of assistance and I thought about suggesting that the price of contraceptives would save them money in the long run.  The dad was this huge guy.    I imagine he had a hard time finding clothes if he was low on funds, however, I have to believe he could find a belt somewhere.  His pants kept falling down.  I was just glad he wasn't going commando.

Then there was the lady that was about my age.  She seemed perfectly innocuous.  Until she started talking to the kids in the above-mentioned family.  The oldest girl, who was about 5, was a pretty little thing with long lashes and a sweet smile.  She eyed the strange lady warily, but was always polite.  I have to say the mom taught her kids well.  Be polite, but watch out for strangers.  And the older lady was the epitome of Strange!  I didn't hear everything she asked, but she fired off questions like an AK47 fires ammunition.  What's your name?  What's your brother's name? How old is your brother?  What about your other brother?  Oh, that's your sister?  What's her name?  How old is she? And on and on.  The mom got called in and left dad with the four kids.  He was immediately encumbered with the baby boy, who decided it was time to eat.  This left the oldest girl to field the questions and shield her siblings.  Fortunately, mom came out quickly.  She quickly assessed the situation and hustled her family out.  Dad carrying the baby in one hand and holding his pants up with the other.

After about 50 minutes I realized I needed to feed the meter.  I was able to find out what number I was on the list at what number they were currently serving.  They were on number 14 and I was number 20.  So I trotted out and down the two blocks to my car and put in enough for an hour and a half.

Then came two ladies pushing an enormous stroller.  One stopped to sign in while the other parked the behemoth and sat down with the baby.  In the row in front of me.  Where I could see up close and personal the bright green bows the woman had affixed to her hair just above her temples, right at the hairline.  It took most of my self-control to keep my mouth shut.  I badly wanted to tell her she looked ridiculous.  It wouldn't even look cute on a child!  I tried to look elsewhere, but there wasn't much going on at the time.  The baby was fussing and, judging by the way he kept arching his back, was probably gassy.  But these two geniuses gave the baby a bottle.  Turns out, the one I thought was the mom was not.  The mom, who was more interested in her cell phone and pocket mirror, paid little attention until Green Ribbons got up to get another bottle.  The mom started berated Green Ribbons for only bringing four ounce bottles.  She was yelling that her son needed a full eight ounce bottle and Green Ribbons was stupid, blah, blah, blah.  The mom noticed me watching with undisguised disgust on my face and shut up.

Among the other notable personages was the one whose gender eluded me.  And the woman who used the bathroom every ten minutes.  I really prayed that I wouldn't have to pee while I was there!  Finally, my name was called.

The first thing I was told was that I did not qualify for LIHEAP assistance.  I was surprised because I had looked up the qualifications before going there.  Turns out there is a different qualification list for people on disability.  The rep helping me must've seen the dismay on my face because she quickly said they have a hardship program in place now.  She looked through my paperwork and said that she needed proof that my Social Security income was for Disability.  So we finished and signed the paperwork and she gave me a form to bring back with my proof of income type.  She told me to go to the Social Security Administration.  Forget that nonsense!

I went home.  I fed the cats and ate lunch.  I signed onto ssa.gov and printed out a Statement of Benefits.

I drove back and found a parking space right in front of the building.  Then I realized I had no more quarters.  I was not about to use a card for 25 cents.  I considered just leaving it, after all I would only be a couple of minutes.  Then I found another quarter.  It was a dirt-encrusted quarter stuck at the bottom of the cup holder.  I figured it was worth a shot.  As luck would have it, it worked and I got a half hour on the meter.

I brought my paperwork in and was glad for the meter time because it took almost ten minutes for the receptionist to make copies and staple them together.  I also made point of saying they need to get to the rep asap.

All in all, I spent about four hours with all this, but it was worth it.  Three days later, my very large past due amount was paid.  Yay!

Now before you judge me, you must realize that I'd had $300 electric bills three months in a row.  When the fourth $300 bill came, I had to make a decision.  Pay the electric bill or buy groceries and sundries?  I decided on groceries.  I treated myself to a few luxuries like disposable hot cups, Puffs tissues and batteries.  Oh, and I went whole hog on a package of mini-pierogis.  Mmmm-mm.

I will not say I will never do this again.  But I sincerely hope and pray that I don't have to!

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

I had a very vivid dream last night.  Or rather early this morning.  Lucid dreams are at the end of the sleep cycle.  Anyway, this is what I dreamed:

I'm in a public sitting area, like at a library or a conference center.  I'm reclining in a comfortable arm chair with my feet propped up on a coffee table, ankles crossed.  Against the wall I'm facing are racks of books or magazines.  I'm talking on the phone and I think it's a business call, although not especially important.  In the dream, I am the same middle-age I actually am now.  I am not as fat as I actually am but still overweight.  However, I feel confident and upbeat.  I don't remember the phone conversation, just that I was talking when I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye.  A forgotten but familiar dread creeps through my stomach as I realize who is there.  It is M-.  With him is his youngest son, all grown up of course.  I can hear their voices, but not the words.  I miss a beat in my phone conversation, but turn my attention back to my caller and hope that M- and son do not see me.  Slouched down as I am, and facing the wall, it's possible they won't.  The dread flows out of me and I am calm again.  I am speaking when I hear his voice hissing at me in anger.  Startled, I struggle to finish my sentence.  Suddenly, M- is in front of me.  His face is a bit older and hard.  He starts throwing money at me and saying something I don't catch immediately.  I end my call and focus on M-.   While I'm taken aback, I'm surprisingly unafraid.  I open my mouth to speak, but the money he is tossing at me gets in my mouth.  I sit up as I finally understand what he is saying.  He's telling me to do the job he taught me to do.  He taught me to kill and I am very good at it. A memory of myself as a young adult learning to shoot a rifle flits through my head.  He wants it finished.  I know who he wants killed, although I don't know.  He walks away while I spit out the last of the money.  I stand up and let the bills fall to the floor.  Fists clenched, I face him and his son.  I shout "No! Not anymore! I won't be a party to your evil!"  I am firmly resolved in this.  I will die myself before killing anyone.  Both men are surprised and...I wake up.

My waking emotions are calm.  While thinking it was a strange dream, I was not  disturbed by it.  Usually, I forget my dreams within an hour or so of waking.  This time, it's been much longer and I still remember almost all of it clearly.

I know what it means.  I didn't until I was halfway through typing it up.  I can even break it down into smaller parts which have their own meaning.  Such as talking on the phone indicates that I have a purpose now and have not been dwelling on the past.  But I won't belabor all the smaller points.  The gist is that I've had this "demon" lurking in the back of my mind for nearly 30 years.  I shut it up behind a brick wall, but every so often I would hear it roar and it always had a claw in my heart.  With this dream, my subconsious and the Holy Spirit helped me to evict the demon.  Is it dead?  No, I do not think so.  But it no longer occupies space in my head and the claw is gone from my heart.  A small pinhole sized scar will always be there, but it's very tiny and scars are signs of either stupid mistakes or battles won.  In this case, it signifies both.  Thank God!