It's About Me

Archive for January, 2009

We’re all set. Are you?

A lot of people have routines every morning that are full of mundane things, and I am one such person. What is normal to me is waking up to a howling cat, a dog licking my face, and another one filling so much of the bed that I’m left with a postage stamp of real estate on one corner of my queen sized bed. 

Because we live in the middle of no where, with no neighbors in visible sight, I don’t have blinds or drapes on my bedroom windows. When the sun comes up, I get the ambient light from those North facing windows and I wake up to it filling the room…on the weekend. The weekdays are dictated by the alarm clock, and/or the dogs and cats – specifically if BJ is out of town. When he’s around I’m lucky he’s an early riser – 4am and he’s up and running, leaving me to a blissful morning of sleeping in.

But this week he’s gone to Indiana and I’m the master of the house. My mornings start off about 3 am with the puppy whining to be let out. If I’m lucky, I can sneak past the geriatric cats, get Cassie out the door and us back in bed without waking up the others.

Then, around 5:30 the howling starts. Momma, the eldest of my 5 cats and clearly the most surly of the bunch starts in meowing at the top of her lungs, and scratching on the bedroom window. I have no idea why. She’s loud and obnoxious and all I really want to do at that point is choke her. I don’t. Sometimes I pretend to be asleep, cover my face and she’ll give up, but that’s a rare treat the older she gets. Tigger will sometimes join her in her frenzy to annoy me. He won’t meow. He’ll just keep clawing at the covers over my face – his way of letting me know that he knows I’m awake.

So, up I go, in a hurry, to get everyone fed. My mornings are all about feeding. When my feet hit the floor, every animal in the house starts in and wants their fair share of food, attention, being let out, being let in, whatever. No one animal is happy with what/who comes first. On the weekends, I hit outside first, just to escape the noise and demands going on in the house.

more tomorrow, with pix.

I got a ticket on October 17, 2008, the night my mother died. I deserved the ticket. I was going around 70 in a 45, but was initially clocked in the 60 zone and the officer cut me some slack. I admit I was on the phone, talking with my husband about my mother, the difficulty of her passing, the sickness that engulfed her in the months, weeks, days and hours leading up to her passing. I honestly wasn’t paying any attention to much of anything around me. I was wholly concentrating on my own sadness. In my defense though, I wasn’t so unaware as to run red lights, or crash into anyone, I was just anxious to get back to my mother’s house to be with my sister and step-dad after taking my brother home.

When I saw the lights of the officer, I told my husband I was getting a ticket and he got mad. I did mention to him that it was probably not a good time to jump my case. When the officer approached he asked why I was speeding and I told him the truth. My mother just died, I was on the phone, and I wasn’t paying attention to the speed. He asked for my license and insurance, never acknowledging what I said.

I took his lack of compassion as a sign that he probably thought I was lying. I am positive they hear lies regularly, and true or not, I’m sure he didn’t think my excuse was worthy of getting out of a ticket. He didn’t know me, and again, figured I was lying. But it would have been nice to have been given the benefit of the doubt. 

He said he gave me a break by ticketing me in the 60 zone rather than the 45/construction zone I stopped in. I didn’t say anything, didn’t see any reason too. At that point, the day’s emotions were wearing me thin and had I opened my mouth I probably would have started crying…which I don’t do publicly unless pushed beyond reason.

A few days later I called the court house to request deferred adjudication. The young lady said that they didn’t do that unless I already had a ticket on record and suggested I take the defensive driving route. She also noted that my ticket wasn’t on record yet and asked who the officer was. His name was Tibby or Tuddy, or Tuttle or something like that, and when I told her his name she said he wasn’t actually in their district anymore. I told her a piece of my story, again noting that it was the night my mother died, and she too didn’t acknowledge what I said.

I never pressed the issue, never expecting to get off. I guess I just wanted some recognition or sign that they understood. I’m not sure what I wanted. Or want. But I finished my defensive driving and had to mail in my certificate to the county clerk. With it, I sent the obituary from the paper to drive the point home. I asked that in the future they should give a person reasonable doubt, that not all people lie, and that while not excusable, and not worthy of getting out of a ticket, that some sympathy could have been given that night and the following days because indeed I was telling the truth. I wanted them to know that not all people lie. 

My mother died, and I got a ticket. The world still turns. Life still goes on. But I’ll never forget October 17 and I hope they won’t either.