winkgirl4's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Life Sucks. You know your day isn't going to be good when it starts of with this converstation:"Hello, is Heather there?" "Yes, this is Heather. Can I help you?" "Heather you need to come to your sister's apartment right now. Can you come right now? It's really important that you get here quickly." "...I...uh...I...uh... Who is this? My sister Michelle? What's the matter?" "I'm Gladys. I live in the apartment near your sister and I can't really say anything except that the ambulance and the police are here and that you have to come quickly." No sooner do I put down the phone than I get a call from the apartment complex manager. "Yes, is this Heather?" "Yes." "Ah, well, this is So N. So. I'm blah, blah, blah. Are you Michelle's sister? She has you listed as next of kin. (-She what? I'm what? What do you mean next of kin? You mean like the person who is supposed to identify bodies or the person who is supposed to bail people out of jail? I'm not that kind of next of kin. I'm the kind of kin that brings the beer and the games to the party. What kind of next of kin are you lookin for? I have two other sisters who are better at being that other kind of kin than me. Want me to give you their phone numbers?-) We needed to contact her next of kin to let them know that she's been taken to the hospital." "Can you tell me what happened?" "We...uh...well, I think that the police should tell you what's going on. We just needed to call you because you were listed as her..." "Uh. Yeah. Okay. Thanks." Great. Now I have to take a trip the ER. Only, first, I have to scrounge a ride because my car's still in the shop. And before all that, I have to call the Mother Hen and the Catholic and let them know that the Paranoid Alcoholic done landed herself in the hospital and the suspected reasons why are too numerous to count. The Mother Hen gets to the hospital first- which is good because that makes her the keeper of information and if anyone's good at being the keeper and supplier of information it's the Mother Hen- meanwhile, I wait for the Catholic and the Republican (her husband) to come pick me up. Bear with my boys and girls, I'm not really as cold-hearted as this might lead you to believe but, apparently, the Paranoid Alcoholic popped some Darvocet and shaved a little close to the veins in her wrists. Why? Well who knows, really. Is it because she's been having problems with the Obsession (the guy who has been fucking her for years but won't commit to a relationship with her)? Is it because she's fallen out of favor with so many people in our family? Is it because eight years ago, today, her six-year-old son drowned? (-Ohhhh, I know, that's a harsh one to throw out in such a cold manner. I know. I know. How can I be such a heartless bitch? How can I be so unsympathetic? Right? Her son died. That's something that you don't really ever get over. Right? Well, right. But is that how you remember his life? By ending hers? No. Not when, just yesterday, she was wanting to borrow a pair of sandals and a couple rolls of toilet paper.) Truth is, I don't know why. And yes, maybe I should be upset but I'm not. I'm mad. Of course, so is she. But, she's mad that the maintenance man finally came in to fix the garbage disposal that broke down six months ago and found her. Goes to show you that some things just don't work out the way you want them to. Life sucks, huh? Well, I'm off to make sure that no other family members have me listed as next of kin. Toodles. 1:45 p.m. - 2003-05-28 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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