…I thought, as I sent the pots and pans flying all over the kitchen (which isn't big) , and one of them, full of water, emptied itself over the Twit, who happened to be in the middle of my way, trying (in vain) to find an excuse for his non active brain and even less active body.
He kept mumbling, I (yey, that's most definitely who I am, hot tempered, moody cow, Latin Hyper Bitch, when it comes to people who try to use me) just kept shouting and throwing stuff. Then I (still pretty much shouting) told him to get out of my house, to which he answered, on his very limpy lettuce customary way- but I have nowhere to go- to what I answered (still at top volume) that I couldn't care less.
But (yey, even with us, the utter Latin Bitches, there is still a but, we are not badly natured people) it was raining, so I let him stayed until today.
Just in case you are wondering, no, this guy was not my partner, not at any time, he was simply (or supposed to be) my carer . Only it was I who was providing the care.
I'm sure I have blogged about this before but, to be honest, I can't be bothered to go back and paste the link, it would mean I would have to look at his picture and then I will feel sicker.
When Wokka's girlfriend didn't allow him to come to us anymore, I had to find someone else.
I talked to a Mexican friend of mine, who had resigned from the BBC in the verge of a nervous break down and was working for £6.25 per hour in some stressful job. As I can pay quiet a bit more than that (please note that it is not my money, but the Social Services who provides it, I just do the mechanical, accountancy bits of it) I proposed her the job. She was unsure of what path to follow but, she said, I have a friend, he has been my lodger for over 10 years, if you give him the job, you are helping me too, as he isn't paying at the moment, the funding for his job was cut, he has been of work for a while….
I have to admit that here my intuition let me down, or maybe was the fact that I was so desperate to find someone that I didn't really stop to *scan* him, maybe the fact that this woman and I, despite of having known each other not for long, had so similar a history, skills, education and background, that I trusted her judgment. Bad move.
In the first couple of months I knew it all, and I spoke to her ready to fire him, but she asked me to be patient, he had problems growing up, (didn't we all?)he has lack of confidence, just be patient, he will get the grip of the job….
well, he didn't.
but he was a nice guy, though most of the time away with the fairies and unable to register the simplest of commands or jobs (and I am not talking brain surgery here, just plain, everyday domestic work, like washing up or vacuuming or the way he has to deal with my body when helping into the bath tub (he almost ripped one of my legs off once)), I thought *everything happens for a reason, maybe I can help him*.
He was beyond help .
(an undetected Aspergers, in my humble but not all that unknowledgeable opinion, who was spoiled by my Mexican friend for 10 years as the son she did not have)
The situation did get to a limit one over Xmas, when he let us down to help Sarita back stage for the skating shows (the 8 of them) but, again, my Mexican friend intervenes and speaks in his favor….with the adding news that she has decided to move back to Mexico (after 22 years of London).
I had so many chats with the Twit, every time something happened, I tried to explain how the mind of a non all that elderly, not all that disabled woman like me works when not in power, how he could help and what he needed to remember, I even write lists and sticky notes all over the house (something I had never EVER had to do for Sarita…now Sarita = 12 years old , The Twit = 43 years old (well 44 a month ago)
I even embarked into the mission of helping him for housing, so he came to stay with us when she left (not without letting me down 'coz he was helping her and oh dear he forgot he had said he would be at ours in so and so occasion), allegedly for a month, maximum 2, after my friends Marta, Gabriel and the daughters came from Bs As, he would go to the council homeless people unit.
In here he complicated things too: my friends left end of march, but no, he couldn't go to the council because……(and I couldn't believe this one) not only had she bought him a ticket to Mexico for the end of the year (for el dia de los muertos….he said)but he was also going in the end of may…..
I'm not gonna carry on.
I'm getting worked up again here so, to make a long story a bit shorter: he thought that, though I was giving accommodation, food (he never bought not even a loaf of bread) and drink (he drinks coffee like water, never bought a jar until last month I instructed Sarita to put ours in her bedroom, when he mentioned the coffee was finished, I sent him to buy with his money, and, can you believe it? he pulled a face…)
…so, as I was saying: he thought that though we were providing free bedroom, food and attention, electricity and gas, he only had to work the few hours he used to when he wasn't here 24/7.
And even the work he did, he did it wrong.
I have been building up steam and last week I was very, very aggressive, but on friday when I was so happy but so wrecked after the whole so active week, I had YET another chat with him and Sarita, in which I kind of apologized for being a bit over the top but, please understand me, I panic when I start feeling new pains, when I think that's it for me, even when I feel powerless to do stuff….and I take it with the people nearer to me, so, -I said- the answer is: you have to help me, don't leave stuff behind for me to do, make life simpler foe me in the physical effort, and I will be in a better mood and all will run smoothly…….
did this actually happen? the understanding, the help? well, from Sarita, my teenage daughter, yes. From the Twit, the alleged responsible adult, no way.
On top of things, it was a year since Nora (my next door neighbor, 43) died after childbirth. It is also the month in which my best ever male friend died in 2000, aged 46, of throght cancer, and our friend Renata, in TRancoso, one of my dearest, a fighter, who alone build and run her restaurant, Cabassas, also died, aged 38, 2 years ago. We were going to Nora's memorial on sunday.
The events which culminated in the pots and pans ravenous dance yesterday and his exiting this morning were nothing new, but I just could take no more.
So now I need to get into the quest of getting someone else.
But that will be another chapter.
I got a bit p***d off with Ms Jessica Andrews this afternoon too, as (only for the song) I wanted the video for some photo slideshow (Scrapblog wont take our own music files but doesn't take YouTube) and couldn't get it.
I did this anyway.
I can't wait for Scrapblog to start printing the books, wanna see prices and types, so maybe I will have an organized story of our pictures.
I will try to come later, now my back is killing me, and I want a cigarette