Still struggling

Zombie again.

The last post a while back, I finally posted it because there have been some developments that would not make sense in a vacuum and what happened last night (early morning actually) really can't lay on my chest. My father-in-law apologized to me for "overstepping his place." Bah! He's a used car salesman, insincere sincerity is a prerequisite. Anyway, it's a start, even if pressure from his wife and daughter played more of a part than any genuine remorse. So now I have two paying jobs, in addition to the unpaid eighty hours a week one caring for my daughter. One is web design/support for a friend who wanted to help me out, which I am beyond appreciative and grateful for. If only I had the time and concentration/focus to do well, hopefully as time passes I will get better at. The other is delivering newspapers...

Like the snow shoveling job, my wife sought this one out to do herself because she holds to an impossible standard of financial somethingorother. I took it instead because well, fuck the world I guess. So, seven days a week I get up at two am to drive forty odd miles putting the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel and a few others into tubes as an independent contractor, i.e. no benefits, no tax withholding, and enslaved for a year because quitting would entail penalties. Takes about two hours on the road, plus a half hour or so to put the fucking things together. Sundays are even worse. The best thing is, I am actually doing it for free. Just about every cent I make goes to vehicle repairs, depreciation, and buying my own gas; 15 mpg x 40 miles @ $3.79/gal (33 miles I can claim as tax deductions) = fuck math. Seventeen cents per paper x one hundred something a day = kill me now.

Then there are the other fun things, like driving off the road and having to call the sheriff to get a tow. Sitting stranded for a couple hours during a blizzard, had to shimmy my fat ass out through the window because the snow was up to my waist and couldn't open the door. Then the deputy arrives and we shoot the shit about our time in the military. But then I asked "am I gonna get a ticket for this?" after he was checking my registration, license and all that. He says "no, I think having to pay for a tow is punishment enough." Punishment, for trying to do my job, as though I would have been driving out in BFE by choice. That was my first unhappy encounter with law enforcement in forever, I knew it was inevitable just by virtue of being on the road so much.

So finally the winter from hell is over, but you know Al Gore is fat so global warming had nothing to do with it. Finally starting to feel not so despairing about my life for reasons nongermane, and all of a sudden, cherries in the rear-view. Great. "Do you know why I pulled you over?" In my head, C-3PO says "we seem to be made to suffer, it is our lot in life." Now I specifically asked the supervisor and the guy who trained me on the route whether the cops ever bothered carriers for the whacktastic way we have to drive. "No, they know we're out here." Apparently no one told this wet behind the ears deputy and he read me the riot act about appearing drunk, etc. It is not humiliating enough to be doing a job now that I had in middle school. Not hard enough to get up at 2 am everyday and then go through life as a metaphorical zombie, not just a cute screenname.

Yes officer friendly, I am well aware of the irreconcilability of doing my job and obeying traffic laws. I have to drive on the wrong side of the street, high beams and dome light on, no seatbelt, and so on. All of which are anathema to me and my lawful-good alignment, but the alternative is... well the impossiblity of doing the job and I got used to it. He eventually let me go with a warning after seeing all the newspapers in the van with me, but now I have to watch my back for johnny law and ramp my stress level beyond tolerance just to not make any money. I am probably two thousand dollars in the hole for repairs and have just about maxed out my gas card.

I spent the rest of the route muttering to myself about the degree of life's unfairness instead of enjoying some music of an audio book. Of course, I could not write any of my clever musings down because, gotta keep moving. Had to get home, hope for a little nap before baby zombie gets up and begins the day's reign of terror. There are dishes to wash, messes to clean up, laundry to do, meals to prepare; I am already way behind from writing this. FML