Well, Happy New Year.
Not so much, but I’m trying. Okay, to catch my readers up with how horrific my holidays have been, it goes something like this.
Alison is allergic to cigarette smoke.
Alison lives with her mother.
Alison’s mother has a boyfriend who smokes like a chimney.
For whatever reason, Alison’s mother refuses to take her condition seriously, and brought her boyfriend over on Christmas without warning and insisted that Alison stick around and give it a try.
Alison tried to leave (not that she had anywhere to go, mind you) — which was a reasonable enough thing for someone in her position to do — at which point her mother tried to stop her and they had a “physical altercation.”
In other words, Alison tried to pry herself loose and her mother nearly choked her.
So, Bob to the rescue. Except I have no car. And no place to put Alison. I have three people renting space at my place that all smoke, so it’s normally not practical to have Alison here. Meanwhile, my only means of transportation is a 1970 Plymouth Valiant with a bad starter that I have to share with my dad. Since Christmas, it has left me stranded three times. Saying it’s unreliable is a bit of understatement.
Fortunately, it turned out the worst of them (we’ll call him “Bill,” a man with the mind of a twelve year old who smokes like whatever’s worse than a chimney) was off visiting his parents, and the other two were reasonable enough (I asked them to go down to the corner to smoke. They complied. Gee, how hard is that?) Since my room is downstairs and they stay upstairs, there weren’t really any problems there.
Of course, Alison’s mother’s boyfriend (we will, for no especially good reason, call him “Mike”) ended up staying the night, and therefore Alison did as well. Basically, her mother chose Mike over her on Christmas, and that had her depressed, desperate, and more than a little paranoid.
As expected, she did it again on New Year’s Eve. Alison’s been talking about killing herself, and I almost wouldn’t blame her if she did at this point. She doesn’t really have anywhere safe to live, and she doesn’t have any way of getting it. I’m not rich enough to afford a place, and my family can’t afford to boot our renters.
So that was my holiday. I certainly hope 2006 is better than 2005.
Well, Happy New Year.