Friday, October 26, 2007

Ever Have One Of Those Days?

Busy week - stuff to do with this and that, run here go there, get this done, go grocery shopping etc. Picked up Meet The Robinsons and was looking forward to just hanging out today with the boys and nothing to do.

WRONG!!

Dad calls and says he'll be able to come tomorrow once someone does a 'walk through' the house. "The what, when??" I ask. Oh, he might call or JUST SHOW UP!!! Oh, okay, um, holy crap sure no prob is what I said and then he has to go. I hang up the phone and scream. . .

CODE RED!! SOMEONE'S COMING OVER! (Translation: Get dressed, make beds, and straighten up all rooms especially the ones that are their responsibility.)

I was pretty impressed with the boys because we were like 20 minutes into the movie and even though they wanted to watch it - they moved with speed and agility most people would be envious over. Oh, who am I fooling - anyone would have loved to moved like these three can. Uh, but not like we've practiced or anything *ahem*.

Anyway, got the place cleaned up rather quickly and was finally able to sit back down and watch the movie. Another 10 minutes goes by when there is a knock on the door. Phooey - I missed most of the movie as I did the walk through and had to answer some questions.

Questions?? Like what? Do we have call forwarding? Huh?? No.

Is there any firearms? Y-y-yes. Long story - but they aren't mine and we don't know what to do with them since they're my Dad's who now can't even touch them or his butt goes back to prison. They are not assessable as that's the last stupid thing I need to deal with. I'm not anti-gun - far from it, but it's one thing to take responsibility for something you own verses having to take responsibility for something you don't own.

So turns out Dad now can't come to my house and visit. The guy said it's a good thing I told the truth otherwise Dad's P.O. could come through my house - cut open boxes, ransack the place, and if he found any Dad would go back to prison.

That made my head spin. One, it's my house so why would the P.O. go through MY stuff to incriminate my Dad?? Two, why would Dad be in trouble when he doesn't live here?? Somethings in life just doesn't make much sense.

I'm glad I told the truth, but felt bad that they cancelled the visit and said I need to get rid of them before he can even visit. Omg! What in the world am I suppose to do with these things?? I thought there was a right way verses a bad way to get rid of them.

I guess dig a whole in the back yard and shove them in is out as that is still on the premises.

It's too bad there isn't a 101 class or a book on how to cope if you or a loved one has been incarcerated. There ya go - I'll write a book titled Everything You Never Wanted To Know About the Penal Code. Does Paris still give interviews? Maybe I can get her to write the forward.

And dontcha know while I'm typing this my Mom calls and goes berserk over the whole thing. She said that they are treating Dad like he's property. Why yes, yes they are - and your point is? The definition of custody: 1. the legal right to take care of and CONTROL someone or something, 2. kept in prison by the police. So when they say you're in prison custody what does that mean?? Hmm, I wonder. What is stubborn for 200, Alex?

Well, times up for this therapy session. Tune in next time on The Door That Slams Shut.

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