My Name Is Gina and I'm Angry, Very Angry

Angry. That's how I started my day yesterday.

Angry that I woke up at 4:00 in the morning and couldn't go back to sleep.

Angry that my niece just spent her 9th birthday in foster care.

Angry that although my mother, Boss Lady and I were taking a trip to go see her that morning, it would mean six hours in a car and only two hours with my niece.

Hold on, it gets better ......

Angry that as I opened my oldest daughter's room to let her know we were all leaving, I find her fast asleep with her 22-year-old-father-of-two-boyfriend right beside her. Sure he was fully clothed but does that really change things for me? Nope.

This was all before 7:30AM! And people wonder why I tend to hug my knees and rock back and forth to the rhythm of my own incoherent babbling.

But wait, there's more ......

Fueled by Starbucks, the three of us set out on this journey to visit my niece. Directions in hand, we successfully navigate our way from Sparks, Nevada to French Camp, California. We arrive safely and 45 minutes early to the compound known as San Joaquin Hospital. I say "compound" because it's in the middle of nowhere and the place looks and feels like a military base. All the buildings surrounding the hospital look like bunkers and barracks. All the streets are layed out in a circular pattern; no street names; no visible addresses. We ask for directions to the Childrens Shelter from three different people and we of course are sent off in three different directions. After circling like idiots for half an hour we finally find the place. The two hours with my niece flies by and before you know it, it's time to go. 

It's 2:00 and although we have yet to eat anything, we decide to wait another hour until we reach our next destination - Ikea. My idea is to relieve myself of some of the day's earlier stresses by throwing my money away on things like kitchen thingys I don't need and frames that may never be filled with pictures. Fun, right? Wrong. Wrong because we get lost and lost and lost. Wrong because I start to notice the car smoking. And now I'm angry again. Angry because the coolant cap is nowhere to be found and what coolant we did have is now running like a neon green river from beneath the car. Angry because it's about 95 degrees outside yet we have to drive with the heater on blast to keep the flippin' car from over heating. Angry because Ikea is so close I can smell the shrink wrap yet we can't go because it's now 3:30 and Boss Lady is about to pass out from malnourishment and I'm about to punch the asshole who just asked me if I'm aware we're leaking coolant as I stand ankle deep in it. 

With our legs nearly blistered from the damned heater and our flip flops melted to our feet, we crawl over mountains at 55 miles per hour. Home at 7:30. In bed at 11:45 because the sun never goes down in goddamned Nevada so the kids play outside all night until I peel them off of their bikes and toss them in bed, kicking screaming and smelling like dirty sidewalk.

Angry.