New Life

Soooooo...

Let's just start with the bad, shall we? My car got sideswiped overnight Friday night while parked on the street. I went out Saturday morning, hop, skipping and jumping down the driveway to go to coffee with my friends and gasped when I saw my mirror hanging from a wire. Then, as it sunk in, I noticed the deep scratches and dents all the way from the back bumper, through both driver's side doors and the front bumper. There were pieces of the other person's car literally STUCK underneath the back door. When the policeman tried to pull one piece out, he couldn't get it and asked me to open the door; at least 10 pieces of the other person's car just clattered to the ground. That's how hard it hit my car. Enter a few tears and Gay Boyfriend calling the non-emergency police line, a text to my friends that said, "I'll be there soon. Sitting in a police car." (Now, that part was funny, because I didn't tell them why. There was just a tad bit of humor left in me.) And that was my Saturday morning. Also, the policeman looked at me with pitying eyes and said, "You know, they were probably drunk." And I'm all, "No shit. Ya think?" I didn't really say that. But duh, right?

My first thought was, "There goes that money I finally put into my savings account." But lucky me, nine years of therapy and four years of recovery from drinking have helped me frame things much better these days, and I almost immediately was able to turn it around to, "At least I HAVE the money today." Which I didn't two weeks ago. Licketly split, Cowgirl called a friend who runs a body shop, a trip out to the middle of nowhere to see him, an estimate and a call to my insurance company, and I'm mostly set. I'm not even mad. I'm just irritated about the hassle of taking it in and driving a rental and picking it up and hoping it's fixed right the first time. Blahblahblah.

So there.

But here's the good. Which, for some people might not seem good, but it was good for me. See? In my current life, there are times when people I care very much about go to jail or prison. It's life. It's the nature of recovery. People have to make amends and restitution for harms done while under the influence, right? So, someone I care about very much went to jail on Wednesday and she has to stay for two weeks. She called me on Saturday night and asked me to visit her on Sunday. And well? If I was in the clink, I'd want someone to pony up and come see me too, right? So I convinced Cowgirl to come with me and we did. You wait in the waiting room (Where Cowgirl of course, made a lifelong friend. I kid you not. We were the only people in there laughing our heads off.) and then we got buzzed in and then they interrogate you about who you are and why you are seeing that particular person and they send your driver's license through a multi-state database to make sure you're not a serial killer or deliquent on parking tickets, and then you sit. And sit. And sit, while you wait for your person to be delivered to their tv screen up in the jail. You don't get to see them in person. You talk to them on a phone and not even through glass like you see on tv. It was over a monitor.

Not nice. But guess what? We made her laugh. I read some things out of our recovery book that she requested (because you can't have any books in jail except the Bible. I think that's wrong. What if you're not Christian?) and we talked and she forgot for just a few minutes that she was there. Also, Cowgirl is really good in situations like that. Lemons from lemonade. Laughter under duress. But we went. Because that's what people do for one another in this life. You hear me?