Alice Through The Mail Slot

We're closing in hard on the one month mark since my lawyer informed me that she would send a written letter to the courts in order to get our case back on the docket.

Called the court today and the last correspondence that they have on file was chuckles, canceling our last court date because his pedo client was heading for the klink so he told the court we were going to settle. Providing that the kids keep the klinkified pedo's last name that is.

I left a message last week pointing out the fact that it was THREE WEEKS and could you CALL ME if something had come up to make another court date unnecessary.

Hmmmm. Is that the jeopardy theme I hear in the background?

Cut to today. Cut to me driving to her office out of town (note to self, don't ever hire a lawyer from another town). This was after calling every hour on the hour, just waiting for someone to pick up the phone. No one ever did. I am beyond leaving messages.

Hmmmm. Law office is locked up. Yes, it is just the lawyer and a very part time assistant. I realized that it was a shot in the dark that anyone would be there so instead, I leaned my forehead against her office door and gazed lovingly at the mail that had been deposited through her mail slot. Lucky bastards! Someone was going to actually pick them up in the near future and perhaps, just perhaps, READ THEM AND TAKE CARE OF BUSINESS.

I then sat down and wrote a note. Believe it or not, it was a very civil note. I was not rude in the least due to the fact that she has me by the short hairs and I ain't got no money for a THIRD lawyer. I slipped my note through the mail slot and as it lay there, I wondered if it was possible to lace it with anthrax using only the power of my mind. (Yes Mr. Homeland Security Officer, that was what is known as 'sarcastic humor'.)

Seriously. My first lawyer sits on my case for THREE MONTHS and doesn't file it with the court, Three months that I could have been collecting child support from a deadbeat pedo.

And I get pissed. And I fire her. And I hire someone else. AND IT HAS NOW BEEN THREE MORE MONTHS since anything has happened with my divorce.

As much as I come across as being a total flaming bitch sometimes on the internets, I use this as a medium to give voice to the psychotic monologue that runs through my head 90% of the time. Usually, I don't flip tits on people.

But I am so incredibly ready to have an aortic aneurysm at any second. Or actually an ulcer (funnily enough). Do I have sucker written on my forehead? Doormat? "Welcome"?

Did someone stick a piece of paper on my back on December 19th, 2008 that said "kick me"?

Cuz right now? I desperately want to kick back.