In Capitalist America...
Jun. 4th, 2012 09:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tsukinofaerii.. jail is weekends only!
Provided you meet the very stiff criteria of "costs more to keep than we like". :\ See, Florida has a for-profit prison system, which basically means that the state pays a private company so many dollars a head to house prisoners. The company makes its profit by minimizing costs while maximizing heads, so if you're one of those lucky few who have high costs for something like, say, medical needs, the prison system does something called a furlough. Which basically means they let you go Monday through Friday as long as you pinkie swear and cross your heart that you'll come back for Saturday and Sunday and won't do anything illegal while you're out. So the system gets the money for you, but doesn't have to actually pay what it costs to house you.
Which means that Richard, with his bad liver, dialysis, tumor and various other medical conditions, is about to be free to harass me, try to sell off the family property, actually sell off stuff on the property (still haven't found that lawn mower), and generally make my life fucking miserable. Again. I've been assured by multiple people that he's not going to blame me or hold a grudge. Except, you know, I'm only the woman who knocked on the door so the cops could get him. Nope, not going to be a grudge there at all. I'm begging people for a PoA so I can at least have something to wave in the cops face if Richard tries to get me kicked out. Here's hoping. The best I can hope for is that he'll decide not to go back to jail, and either he'll get arrested again or run off somewhere where he doesn't bother us anymore.
Either way, I guess I'm about to go back to locking the doors at all times, worrying about the dogs being taken, not sleeping and generally being a stressed out mess of a person. Fun.
In related news, Mary and Papa are still up north. No idea when they're coming back. The rough date keeps getting pushed back. At this point, I'm just assuming that I'm stuck here until someone dies. Emma is being wishy washy and avoidant, which is a really bad sign. Someone's been going to Mary's bank with a Power of Attorney claiming they have a right to her account, and on a couple of occasions actual ID claiming to be Mary! Luckily, the account is locked behind a verbal password, so they haven't been successful. But since it's been happening while Richard;s been in jail, I can only assume that it's going to get worse now that he's out. I hear plans to close the accounts and move everything to new ones, but IDK what's happening there. :\ All I know is that I'm paying all the household and pet bills up front now, and will probably never see a dime in return.
Cleaning the house has reached a stalemate. I've managed to wrangle a little bit of help, but it always comes by way of maybe an hour a month, so it's not really help. And just keeping up with it, nine dogs, three cats and the bird is hard enough. Papa's room is still a disaster, and not likely to get any better, and I've been officially ordered not to clean the two storage rooms. Which means that there's no way to treat for bugs properly, since all they do is go into the mess and hide. (And I mean mess; you can't walk in either of them they're so cluttered.) Seeing as this is rural Florida, that means the bugs are winning. I feel like I'm failing at basic things, but short of making myself ill IDK what I can do about it. :(
Happier news (to break the constant downer), my sister in law had another baby! It's a boy, and through various hilarious mishaps, poor memory and a general lack of communication, I still don't know what his name is. Either way, I'm taking advantage of the situation to knit baby socks (with some additional reasons by way of coworkers with expecting nieces and cousins; SOCKS FOR ALL). After I have done that, I will turn my attention to Adorable Hoodie Sweater, and then to Even More Adorable Panda Hat and Mittens. By the time I'm finished, it'll be just in time for winter.
And finally, to top off the smorgasbord of TMI, work drama! We're being restructured, and it's obviously a grudge thing. BOOM, out of nowhere, the department boss was fired, our department was dissolved, and we've been left in limbo while the higher-ups figured out what to do with us. Because, you know, act first, then decide how to clean up the mess. Your tax dollars at work, folks! My position (and a lot of others) are considered temp work, so we're really, really vulnerable. No one thinks twice about letting us go. (Seriously! I've worked for this school since fall of 05, in this position since January of 08, and I'm a temp! I'm also pretty sure this is illegal, but what am I going to do? Sue? Then I'd have legal fees and no job.) I found out last week that my job is probably safe (no one else can do it as it requires a lot of training and a high security level, plus my excellent record, plus that my boss has enough hours for exactly me and will fight tooth and nail to keep me as the one filling those hours), thank the gods, but I'm worried for my coworkers. Other than that, no one really knows anything; we still don't have a real head or VP, still aren't attached to a department and the higher ups are still "discussing". All we get are some menacing memos that we should be prepared to "prove our existence". Eeep. /o\
So... Um. Yeah, that's been my month. If I sound stressed or inexplicably freaked out of small things, that's probably why. Sometimes I think my life is some sort of TV drama, and then I realize that any script writer worth their salt would toss it as too unbelievable for television. Also, long periods of "I should write/edit this but meeeeeh too lazy OMG PEOPLE ARE WRONG ON THE INTERNET" followed by brief bursts of "WTF IS THIS SHIT" is terrible pacing.
Provided you meet the very stiff criteria of "costs more to keep than we like". :\ See, Florida has a for-profit prison system, which basically means that the state pays a private company so many dollars a head to house prisoners. The company makes its profit by minimizing costs while maximizing heads, so if you're one of those lucky few who have high costs for something like, say, medical needs, the prison system does something called a furlough. Which basically means they let you go Monday through Friday as long as you pinkie swear and cross your heart that you'll come back for Saturday and Sunday and won't do anything illegal while you're out. So the system gets the money for you, but doesn't have to actually pay what it costs to house you.
Which means that Richard, with his bad liver, dialysis, tumor and various other medical conditions, is about to be free to harass me, try to sell off the family property, actually sell off stuff on the property (still haven't found that lawn mower), and generally make my life fucking miserable. Again. I've been assured by multiple people that he's not going to blame me or hold a grudge. Except, you know, I'm only the woman who knocked on the door so the cops could get him. Nope, not going to be a grudge there at all. I'm begging people for a PoA so I can at least have something to wave in the cops face if Richard tries to get me kicked out. Here's hoping. The best I can hope for is that he'll decide not to go back to jail, and either he'll get arrested again or run off somewhere where he doesn't bother us anymore.
Either way, I guess I'm about to go back to locking the doors at all times, worrying about the dogs being taken, not sleeping and generally being a stressed out mess of a person. Fun.
In related news, Mary and Papa are still up north. No idea when they're coming back. The rough date keeps getting pushed back. At this point, I'm just assuming that I'm stuck here until someone dies. Emma is being wishy washy and avoidant, which is a really bad sign. Someone's been going to Mary's bank with a Power of Attorney claiming they have a right to her account, and on a couple of occasions actual ID claiming to be Mary! Luckily, the account is locked behind a verbal password, so they haven't been successful. But since it's been happening while Richard;s been in jail, I can only assume that it's going to get worse now that he's out. I hear plans to close the accounts and move everything to new ones, but IDK what's happening there. :\ All I know is that I'm paying all the household and pet bills up front now, and will probably never see a dime in return.
Cleaning the house has reached a stalemate. I've managed to wrangle a little bit of help, but it always comes by way of maybe an hour a month, so it's not really help. And just keeping up with it, nine dogs, three cats and the bird is hard enough. Papa's room is still a disaster, and not likely to get any better, and I've been officially ordered not to clean the two storage rooms. Which means that there's no way to treat for bugs properly, since all they do is go into the mess and hide. (And I mean mess; you can't walk in either of them they're so cluttered.) Seeing as this is rural Florida, that means the bugs are winning. I feel like I'm failing at basic things, but short of making myself ill IDK what I can do about it. :(
Happier news (to break the constant downer), my sister in law had another baby! It's a boy, and through various hilarious mishaps, poor memory and a general lack of communication, I still don't know what his name is. Either way, I'm taking advantage of the situation to knit baby socks (with some additional reasons by way of coworkers with expecting nieces and cousins; SOCKS FOR ALL). After I have done that, I will turn my attention to Adorable Hoodie Sweater, and then to Even More Adorable Panda Hat and Mittens. By the time I'm finished, it'll be just in time for winter.
And finally, to top off the smorgasbord of TMI, work drama! We're being restructured, and it's obviously a grudge thing. BOOM, out of nowhere, the department boss was fired, our department was dissolved, and we've been left in limbo while the higher-ups figured out what to do with us. Because, you know, act first, then decide how to clean up the mess. Your tax dollars at work, folks! My position (and a lot of others) are considered temp work, so we're really, really vulnerable. No one thinks twice about letting us go. (Seriously! I've worked for this school since fall of 05, in this position since January of 08, and I'm a temp! I'm also pretty sure this is illegal, but what am I going to do? Sue? Then I'd have legal fees and no job.) I found out last week that my job is probably safe (no one else can do it as it requires a lot of training and a high security level, plus my excellent record, plus that my boss has enough hours for exactly me and will fight tooth and nail to keep me as the one filling those hours), thank the gods, but I'm worried for my coworkers. Other than that, no one really knows anything; we still don't have a real head or VP, still aren't attached to a department and the higher ups are still "discussing". All we get are some menacing memos that we should be prepared to "prove our existence". Eeep. /o\
So... Um. Yeah, that's been my month. If I sound stressed or inexplicably freaked out of small things, that's probably why. Sometimes I think my life is some sort of TV drama, and then I realize that any script writer worth their salt would toss it as too unbelievable for television. Also, long periods of "I should write/edit this but meeeeeh too lazy OMG PEOPLE ARE WRONG ON THE INTERNET" followed by brief bursts of "WTF IS THIS SHIT" is terrible pacing.
