Short story long.

I usually sensor myself online to make it pleasant for everyone, and it’s so much easier to do than in real life, but I have to seriously ask this:  WHAT THE FUCK LIFE?   WHAT.  THE.  FUCK?

So last week, because he has universal blood and he loves doing good (for once, haha) Jason stayed a little late after his shift at work for a blood drive.  What a nice guy, right?  Well, since the tunnels aren’t open when he gets to work, or on his lunch break (which is 4 am), he parks in front of his work instead of the designated parking area for his company.  This is ok because he gets off at 9 am, and parks in the 1-hour time limit spaces that start at 8 am.  Well, the morning he gives blood, guess who comes out in full force?  The parking Nazi!  (Hey, the entire town knows him by this; it wasn’t me who gave him the name.)  So Jason was parked in the same spot he parked in when he got to work, for safety reasons, and guess who gets a parking violation.  Jason!  Yay for him.  Thanks for donating your blood that saves lives, now pay your ticket.  Luckily, this is a small town, and his ticket was only $15 as long as we paid in within 10 days, but that’s not the point.  The point is, is that Jason did something nice, something that helps people, and he did it out of the kindness of his heart.  No one asked, he’s not helping someone he knows, he’s helping complete strangers, just because he can… and this is what happens.  I realize that he was in the wrong.  But seriously… why that day?  Why?

This brings me to my next kick in the face by that backstabbing bitch, Karma.  For my Mother’s Day present, all I wanted was pictures of my daughter.  Getting him to schedule anything was useless, as it is now three weeks past Mother’s day, and here I am telling you this story about not getting them done.  (Still.)  It was like pulling teeth getting him to commit to anything, or call anyone.  Last week, early in the week, he called Sears, we wanted to see what all we get when we schedule an appointment with them, like, do we get outfit changes, do we get to set up our own pictures (within reason) etc.  They never called us back.  So I started looking at other options in the area.  By options, I of course mean the one other place in town that does pictures.  Wal-Mart.  Why on earth I thought this was a good idea is beyond me.  I don’t know if it’s in every Wal-Mart or not, but they have a photo studio called Picture Me.  Looked online, looked professional enough, pretty comparable to Sears, so I went with it, I scheduled the appointment at 6 pm because that would give him enough time to get home from work, sleep for almost 8 hours, and get up to come with me to get the pictures done.  (P.S.  Babies may be small, but they are mighty, and oh my gosh do they require a lot of crap to even leave the house.)

Nothing, I mean nothing in my life can be easy.  So last night Quinn was sick, and miserable again, which means I was miserable again, until about 6 am.  Exhausted.  Since this was the 3^rd time this week that she had been sick like this Jason called the doctor when he got home, we scheduled an appointment for 2:30, and we crashed out.  Of course being crashed out only meant an hour of sleep for both of us, and Quinn was up again.  By the time she got calmed down, it was about noon, so I knew I had to be up to get ready, and get her ready.  By this time, Jason was wide-awake too, so no sleep for either of us.  Super!  We take her to the doctor, which takes forever; we don’t get out of there until almost 4.  Grab some food, go home to relax for a bit.  Get Quinn fed so that she doesn’t spit up on her outfit (hopefully) iron her little dress, get the props we want to use and head out the door.  We get to the photo studio about 15 minutes early.  Packed.  Looks like a large group (about 6) is wrapping up their order, making their purchases.  Stand there for 45 minutes with another couple.  Photographer finally pops her head out, and asks if she can help us.  Yes!  That would be great.  Say that we were the 6 o’clock appointment (it's now 6:30), and she says oh it will just be a little bit, when we tell her the other couple was there before us, she says that they know what’s going on, apologizes to them because she will have to take us first since we had an appointment, which they nod to us / her in understanding, and says she will be with us shortly.  Banter back and forth with the other couple.  Turns out when they got there, at 5, the people who were “finishing up” had been “finishing up” since then, and they were still picking out their stuff an hour and a half later.  At about 6, after lots of chit chatting (and taking up all the chairs for their family—including their empty baby carrier, with total disregard for the other 4 people standing around waiting on them, they were finally done.  We felt bad for the people who had been waiting for an hour, and they said they only wanted two poses, and knew exactly what they wanted.  Quinn was sleeping so Jason let them go ahead of us.  I’ll cut this already long story short by saying they got a lot more than 2 poses, and after sitting in the photo studio for almost 3 hours, Quinn had her diaper changed 6 times, her outfit changed, and had been fed, and was now hungry, and screaming, and the people were STILL not done picking out the pictures that they “only wanted two poses of” and ended up getting a huge package and couldn’t even decide what size sheets they wanted.  I was so pissed, Quinn was hungry, and crying (understandably) so I went to the bathroom to clear my head for a second, came back, told Jason loudly that we were leaving because there was no way in hell I was paying a lot of money for pictures of my daughter crying, and we packed up everything.  It wasn’t until we were actually physically foot-out-the-door of their little cubbyhole that the photographer asked us if something was wrong.  I glared at her, told her we would reschedule as we walked away, and she apologized for the delay.  Really?  Its eight fucking thirty and you choose NOW to apologize.  You close at seven.  My appointment was at six, I realize that we were stupid enough to be nice to people and let them go in front of us, but what the fuck?  I have a two month old child, who literally didn’t cry for the first 2 ½ hours.  I’d say we did pretty well.  Even a camera wielding 5 year-old could manage time better than that.  Never again.

We got home, and again, another break down.  I’m pretty sure I could solve any droughts with the amounts of tears that I’ve shed this week.  All I wanted was pictures of my daughter for Mother’s Day.  It’s June now, and we have nothing scheduled, nothing on the horizon, and I really don’t have any hope that it will get done, and that if we are fortunate enough to get something scheduled in the near future, I know that will be the day when Quinn decides that she’s not having it.

Ugh.

These past two weeks have made me never want to do anything nice for anyone again.  I don’t expect anything in return for doing nice things for people… but I do kind of expect to not be screwed in the process.  Is that too much to ask?