God watches out...

I recall a Sunday sitting in Grace and Peace where Pastor Walt spoke about how years back his accountant asked him why he didn't have a college fund for his children.  Pastor Walt answered by saying God will make sure they get through college.  He believed it, he gave back to those in need, and his children did make it through college.  A few weeks ago, my friend sent me an email along the lines of thanking God for closed doors, not just opened doors of opportunity.  This past week or so, I do believe God has been watching out...maybe more than a few weeks.

December 14th I sat in Toms River Court House in front of a judge.  My landlord filed to evict me.  In October I contacted my landlord and we discussed him giving the information required of social services for me to get rental assistance.  He never gave me the information.  Instead, he rudely banged on my door until I answered it and handed me a hand written letter stating I was in default.  We knew this.  The letter was a formality...sign #1 that he's not intending to play nice.  He still said he would supply the documentation.  He never did.  When I called him again he informed me that he'd already filed in court, three days before the lease terms legally allowed him to.  Sign #2 that he's not playing nice.  Again, he told me he would supply the documentation. 

The next time I saw or spoke to him was the court date.  The mediator we sat with tried to explain to him that if he supplied the documentation he had a chance of getting his money.  She explained that his only other course of action was to continue with evicting me and then attempting small claims court to get the back rent.  She explained to him that since I was on general assistance with an income of $200 a month, he can't bleed a stone and if I were evicted there would be no way for him to get his money.  He agreed to supply the information to social services directly, claiming fear of identity theft.  Understandable.  No problem.

A week later he called me and told me I never went to social services (despite having the paperwork with me in court).  Two days later, Christmas Eve, I received a letter in the mail from an attorney representing him.  There was no specified court date in it, just copy of his complaint wrongly accusing me of breeching our agreement.  I did not know how to file paperwork contesting this claim, I waited for notification of a court date to verbally defend myself.

I never received any such notification.  The next notice I had was the 93 year old woman next door (the landlord's mother), who has dementia and doesn't remember me, knocking on the door to tell me the sheriff is coming to tell me to get out and when could they expect me to leave?  I told her I would be out the end of the month.  She said that was fine.  This was Friday, January 22nd.

At 4pm B went out to check the mail and brought in a notice that was taped to the door.  The notice was signed by a judge on Jan 14th,  and dated January 20th by the sheriff as notification.  We don't use the front door.  At 4pm two days later we found this notice.  It said we needed to be out by 8:30am Tuesday, January 26th.  That's not a lot of time to arrange moving when you have no money and no new home to go to.

I called my Dad.  He said no problem, find a truck and we'll move all of my things to his storage unit upstate New York.  I called my mother and asked to sleep on her couch.  B called the neighbor and set up staying there.  I had started packing a few weeks earlier, but with my back it's been slow going.  Now it was a crash course in how much can Donna handle? 

Thank God for Prozac.  Without the antidepressant, I think I'd have been a HUGE mental mess.  As it was, I was generally able to be decisive and function with just a few moments of walking in circles.  I had a truck reserved by 5:30pm for Saturday morning pick up and Tuesday morning return.  Saturday morning I picked up Dad and he paid for the truck, B drove it back to the house, had two friends and the neighbor over and we began the mad dash to clear the house! 

The boys handled the heavy stuff.  I focused on packing.  Dad focused on D's room.  Anyone who's seen D's room knows that it is wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling posters.  Years back she asked if we could paint it funky colors and designs.  I told her sure, but you need to clean it and keep it clean.  Cleaning didn't happen.  She asked if she could put up posters.  I handed her blue tac and said, "Go for it!"  A $13 magazine subscription later the kid had made her own wallpaper!  It was much cheaper than painting.  She enjoyed telling her friends she sleeps surrounded by stars!  Dad took all of the posters off the wall as gingerly as he could and packed every last one of them.  He laughed and commented how D's been hanging out with Uncle M too much since she has posters of guys on the ceiling over the bed.  I informed him that was not just "any guy," that was Taylor Lautner! 

Sunday we finished the packing and loading the truck.  Jay made a few comments about wanting to watch the football games.  I was hurting.  Dad was dead tired.  We opted for finishing the drive and move Monday.

Monday it POURED!  It didn't just rain.  It was a torrential soaking!  We drove to Chester, NY and unloaded Dad's stuff from storage, loaded the storage unit with the contents of my house, loaded Dad's stuff on the truck, and then drove it back to Jersey.  Wouldn't you know, the rain stopped as we were finishing the loading and unloading stuff.  God's way of making us move faster?

Dad kept saying God was with us.  He said we could have not found a truck.  We could have not found the notice until it was too late to actually do anything.  As crazy as it all was, it worked out.  I got the notice, got the truck, packed, had friends to help, and got it done.  God was watching out for me.

No more Lobster :-(

I am trying to recap again since it's been nearly two months since I have been able to keep up with this.  Things have been nuts!

I manned up and went for my bloodwork.  They weren't able to draw the neurologist's because she didn't put in a diagnosis code, but they drew the allergist's.  I was so upset.  I TOLD the tech I was allergic to latex and she sat me in a chair with a latex tourniquet on it, then PUT the latex tourniquet on me.  When I told her for the fifth time I am allergic to latex she said, "I put it on your shirt, not your skin."  She then proceeded to put on latex gloves.  I told her again, I am allergic to latex.  She put one latex free glove on and told me she can't wear them because they don't fit.  She asked me why I was having these labs done.  I informed her they were ordered by my allergist because I have been having shortness of breath and wheezing and tongue swelling and we aren't sure what else I am allergic to aside from latex (which I was now covered with).  Ugh. I was so upset when I left there.

I received a phone call to make an appointment with the allergist.  I DO have allergies!  My blood work came back highly allergic to dust/dust mites.  I was more mildly allergic to mold.  Moderately allergic to cockroaches.  Mildly allergic to cats (poor Charlie!), oak trees (3 of them right outside my back door), hickory (bye-bye Hickory Smoked beef jerky), chestnuts and shellfish.  The doctor prescribed an epi-pen for me to carry around and said no more shellfish!  No clams, mussels, oysters, shrimp, crab, lobster, etc!  Ever.  No more clam chowder.  No more lobster.  No more stuffed shrimp.  No more crab cakes.  *Sigh*  On the brighter side, I am not allergic to peanuts, milk, soy, and several fruits that are cross reactive with latex.