I get me. That's probably a good thing, right? Most of you get me.
Apparently, not everyone gets me. This creates miscommunication and feelings. And hate comments. I did get a kick out of those...especially the ones who thought the article was trash or garbage or that I had a complex or POOR ME syndrome. You would have to go to US Facebook page for those.
I guess I didn't expect my latest post at Uniform Stories to be the popular one. I thought the one about the media would have gotten more exposure or attention. Just put the words RUINED WOMAN in an article and away it goes.
Goes to show you I KNOW NOZZINK!
I think sometimes writing is like playing chess. You think you have all these strategic moves and plans and whammo! Some punk takes your Queen.
Meanwhile on the home front, my PT is going well and I really wanted to put on a uniform again. It is killing me. I don't know what it is about being physically fit and strong, but it drives me. Must be the endorphins. Those help drive sexual appetite. Not that I know...just that I heard that somewhere.
Politics continues to amuse me. I keep thinking we are all in a bad dream and this will go away come general election time. I know...it is a fantasy. I like fantasies. Do you?
Well, close enough to fantasies are dreams. When I was working nights, going through the middle of my first very bad divorce-running the landscaping business, being a mom, running my ex out of the house and property, running the livestock, hunting dogs, running from my ex, and the whole 9 yards...I depleted myself to nothing. I mean all used up. It was so bad I reported myself to my sergeant and asked to be taken off the FTO program because riding in the passenger seat just snoozed me the fuck out. I asked to be temporarily removed until my divorce was completed and we knew what was going to happen with the business. Additionally, I was going to take some vacation to get squared and not burn the candles at both ends. I fully expected to be written up or fired permanently as a cop. It was a problem. Driving...no problem. Riding...disaster.
The department took leniency on me and we worked things out with my schedule. However...there had been many days of narcolepsy and it just happens to be a problem when I ride in a car...anytime ....anywhere. I really have to fight with myself.
So here is a little excerpt from the days of The Rook.
I reported to my FTO sergeant that I was having problems staying awake as the passenger while training. When I drive, I am fine. When I ride...it's like rocking a baby to sleep. Especially...if we have a lull in crime. SQUIRREL and THE ROOK have been good about it and try to help me stay awake. Despite business checks, training exercises, and traffic stops...there are seconds in between where I just collapse. I even told Sarge I might have narcolepsy. Self diagnosed.'
THE ROOK: You were funny. You can sleep and still carry on a conversation.
ME: Awesome. I am so proud of myself.
THE ROOK: When I was typing my report, I asked you if you spoke to that woman on the last call. You said, "Yeah. I spoke to the woman at the counter. I got her statement."
THE ROOK: Except we never were at a counter. We were outside in the yard.
ME: Thank God.
THE ROOK: What?
ME: I didn't remember being at a counter and if I told you I talked to a woman at the counter, I didn't remember a thing. I was starting to get very concerned about my sleep problem. Like I was sleeping while out there with citizens. Yikes.
THE ROOK: [giggling] You were sleeping and dreaming. In the Tahoe. And talking. Funny.
THE ROOK: It's OK. I got your back.
ME: Yeah. But I don't have yours. I am getting pissed. I think it's the vehicle. The Narc Arc.
THE ROOK: What?
ME: Narcolepsy vehicle. The Narc Arc.
THE ROOK: *blink*blink*
THE ROOK: [hits me] Hey. We have a prowler call.
THE ROOK: I tried waking you up by going to 60 mph and then braking. You didn't even wake up.
ME: Super. Beat me.
THE ROOK: I tried that too.
ME: No, I meant this is killing me. I hate feeling like this. I hate falling asleep. It's to the point I need to drive and that isn't going to do you any good for training. Sleep or no sleep at home. It doesn't make a difference. It's the passenger in the car thing. And boredom. We have had eerie quiet nights.
THE ROOK: It's OK. I just think I'm Morgan Freeman driving Miss Daisy.
ME: You're white.
THE ROOK: Yeah. It's pretend.
THE ROOK: You know what?
THE ROOK: I was watching you sleep while I wrote my report. You were reading that training manual and you fell asleep.
ME: Ugh. I am getting so mad at myself.
THE ROOK: You are so cute when you sleep.
THE ROOK: Look at you! Rockin' the ponytail today. I have never seen you with a pony tail. Only the high and tight up do.
ME: Dude, are you the fashion police?
THE ROOK: [Big cheesy smile] Nope. Just wondering if that will help you stay awake.
ME: *blink *blink* You are beating me at my own game. Now I know I am losing my powers.
THE ROOK: What powers?
ME: The force. It's not with me anymore.
THE ROOK: What?
ME: Oh, sorry. Forgot that show was before your time.
THE ROOK: Are we talking Harry Potter?