I had to bring the van to the garage for 9am, so I was outside, doing my rounds, earlier than usual.
I usually wait until it isn’t dark anymore, but of course, it’s staying dark much longer now.
That didn’t stop the kitties from coming out for an early breakfast, though!!
Things didn’t quite work out at the garage, though. When I got there, I asked if it was okay if I could stay in his office/waiting area. With all the restrictions, there’s no place to just sit, and it’s too cold to stay outdoors.
It turned out, however, that he somehow double booked. My appointment wasn’t written in his schedule! He remembered what I was booked for, but he had someone else scheduled.
On top of that, the lift he needed to be able to access my tires was occupied by a truck that was supposed to have had only hours of work, but has instead been there for days.
Considering he had my mother’s car on a lift for almost a month, I could only appreciate the situation.
He asked if I could come back in the afternoon, but with my needing to go to the court office, it wasn’t an option. I could have gone in the morning, but I had no way of knowing how long it would take. I might not have been able to get back in time.
So we re-booked me for Monday. A quick stop top
pick up breakfast at the grocery store, then the gas station before driving the 30-40 minutes to the small city it’s in. While I was inside, nowhere near anyone, waiting to pay for my gas, a masked customer came up to me – so much for physical distancing! – telling me that there was a sign at the door saying we had to wear masks. There is no mask mandate in this municipality, but I just told him I was medically exempt. He slunk away with a snarky “isn’t that convenient” type of comment. I told him, “… and that’s harassment.”
At least he had the decency to seem embarrassed.
The clerk behind the counter wasn’t wearing a mask, either.
When I got to where I needed to go, the court itself, in a different area of the building, was in session, so there were two security guards in body armour at the door. Though the mask mandates were supposed to expire two days ago, they got extended (is anyone surprised?). The guards were wearing cloth masks that matched their uniforms. I got questions about why I was there, if I had any symptoms or have been around people who tested positive, etc., and about masking. They accepted my exempt status, though I don’t think they believed me. I was the only person I saw, anywhere in the building, without a mask. Since I had everything prepared and needed only to have things signed, witnessed and to swear on the Bible, that part went by quickly. The lady behind the counter was surprised by my typed affidavit, and I explained I was told I could do that, so she accepted it. I then had to wait outside the doors until someone came to me.
The chairs had been taken away since I was there on Monday, so I tucked into a little cubby in the wall next to the pay phone, opposite the security guards. Which was… interesting.
One of the guards, who was wearing thick cloth gloves, kept pulling at his mask and adjusting it. Because of this, I could see that it wasn’t even layers of fabric, but little more than a single layer of interlock knit (t-shirt material) over his face. Cloth masks are confirmed as being the most useless type of mask to begin with, but this was about as flimsy as could be! Still, they satisfied the mandate.
Then I saw him repeatedly use hand sanitizer.
On his cloth gloves.
It was the strangest thing!
I think I waited for about an hour before someone came out and handed me some printouts.
The application was denied.
The letter explained why. It came down to two related things; one of which I might have been able to dig up old emails to meet their standard of evidence, but the other… I just don’t have it. Since I’ve cut communications off with our vandal, I am not in a position to know those sorts of details. At least not to the extent they need.
So that is that. Unless/until something else happens, I will not apply again. As much as he needs the help and won’t get it himself, there is a reason these mental health applications are hard to get, and I do appreciate that. Too many people already abuse the court system for their own personal vendettas. To force someone to have a psychiatric evaluation, the application absolutely must have the evidence to back it up.
I really should have done this when it was first recommended to me, 2 years ago, when the worst of it was still happening.
Ah, well. Live and learn.
One thing that helps is, my family is very supportive of me in all this. When I got home, one of my daughters made lunch for me. As I spent time writing related emails and making a call to get legal advice (I love my Legal Shield!) for the court date, my husband and I had a chance to talk about it, and I updated my brother. As he now owns the property, what our vandal is doing is against him as much as against us! Later, my daughters put together a charcuterie board for us to share for supper, as we watched an episode of The Edwardian Farm. That did get cut short when my lawyer called back. We didn’t talk for long; he asked me to email him copies of the court form about the peace bond, will do some research, and get back to me next week.
Among the things I need to talk to him about is that our vandal has been dropping hints for some time that he’s planning to sue… someone… not sure who. When I first heard of it, it was in a voice mail directed at my mother, but now that my brother is the owner, perhaps that who he plans to sue? Of course, we are “making” him do this but I have no clue what grounds he thinks he has that he can sue any of us for. He apparently still thinks everything has been “given” to me, and by “everything”, he means all the stuff on the farm he feels entitled to because he helped my parents, way back when. It seems he honestly believes he owns it all. When we moved here, my mother expressly stated that we were to treat everything and use everything here as if it were our own, and my brother is on board with that, too. Even so, the stuff that’s here belongs to the farm. It’s not “ours” any more than the farm or house is. It’s a sort of package deal. 😀 Of course, there’s more to it than that, which I can’t get into here.
What a mess!
With all the stuff we’ve discovered since moving here – like needing a new roof and a complete renovation, possibly needing a new well, not having the tools and equipment we should have had had to take care of the place, and so on, in the end, this is really the only major problem with living here. In the end, that’s really not too bad. It’s still better than what we left behind.
Life is good.