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2003-10-17 @ 9:15 a.m.

con·sis·tent adj.
1. In agreement; compatible: The testimony was consistent with the known facts. 2. Being in agreement with itself; coherent and uniform: a consistent pattern of behavior. 3. Reliable; steady: demonstrated a consistent ability to impress the critics. 4. Mathematics. Having at least one common solution, as of two or more equations or inequalities. 5. Holding true as a group; not contradictory: a consistent set of statements.

So earlier this week Sal called to tell me that he won’t be getting a check until the first. No big surprise for me, and it was nice for him to realize that he had mentioned to me that he hoped to have money on the 15th, and to call and let me know that he wouldn’t. So the call entailed- Sorry no money, we had fun with the girls last week, we want to see them sometime later this week. Yesterday I called and left a message to the effect of “can you figure a way to fill up my gas tank (because she has a credit card) and let me know when you want the girls so I can make plans”

I have secretly already been offered a little monetary sustenance from the rents. However, I don’t really want their money. I want the money I am owed. So I said to my mother-“Thank you, but I’d rather make sure that if there is some way for Sal to help me, that he is made to, because of his debt.” That was very responsible of me I thought. I figure I can still ask for a paltry sum when the Daddyman disappoints, right? (The answer is maybe when it comes to my mother. She is like the credit bureau, she cannot assure me that if the line of credit she offers today is declined, that it will still be offered to the same degree tomorrow)

So last night, at a time I consider late (9:30 after a bath, in jammies- and for me “jammies” means I have removed my bra because sleep is quite eminent) Sal calls to say he’s in the area and needs his old inhaler that’s inside his dresser drawer. He keeps cutting out, but I understand that I must unlock the door so he can intrude briefly and insure that the girls cannot fall asleep for at least another hour if not longer. He barges in with his wife and whips out gifts for the girls of coloring books. They aren’t the same. This is an issue. Why? Because one has paints (which is a bummer, because NO ONE is painting tonight) and one doesn’t. I am pissed because presents at bedtime are inappropriate. Popping in at bedtime is ALSO inappropriate. He asks for something to drink, which pisses me off because I never said I would host any visit. He goes into the fridge and does not take a drink of cold cold water, but instead pours a glass of what any fool can see is the only caffeine I have in the house; iced tea.
Rule one of the daddyman: take what you want, whenever you want it, and don’t think twice of taking the last of it.
He says he can come up with maybe $30 for me and we can touch base tomorrow sometime so I will have it. That’s a nice surprise.

The girls are arguing horribly over the difference in their presents. “It’s not fair” is dripping from the unseen rafters. This indicates to both intruders that the visit is over, and they should be on their way.

On the way down I confirm that since no mention of seeing the kids over the weekend has been made, that it doesn’t work for them. This is confirmed. Sal mentions Saturday night, and I point out they’ll be tired, and won’t behave in an enjoyable manner by that time, so why bother? We’ll touch base tomorrow, to which my inner voice virtually screams “I wasn’t expecting anyone, and I’m not wearing a bra- you are imposing on my very managed evening GET OUT!”

So I leave a message on their machine at home, a very calm message stating: “I am sorry if I was confused and irritated, but earlier in the week you had clearly said ‘no money but time” and so whereas the money is a very welcome surprise, I really just need consistency from you. In what you say and when you see the girls.” I don’t say it, but hopefully he realizes that that is what the girls need from him as well. Later, Elizabeth requested that she call Daddy to thank him again for the nice present and so I let them do that. They left a nice message.

The messages might have been the wrong thing to do. I don’t care really, because I wasn’t doing anything except trying to say my piece in a format that he would have to listen.

Apparently I can't shut up...
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