What a crazy weekend!
Friday night was blessedly quiet...I made Shepard's pie for D and I for dinner and we watched a movie while relaxing. D was starting to come down with a cold and just wasn't feeling up to par. Saturday morning, he woke up with a full-blown nasty cold and to make matters worse, he was heading to work early. I felt guilty as I got to stay in bed, cuddled up to the doggies, when he left. During the day I made my favorite Death by Chocolate (fyi: I substitued crushed up peanut butter cups and butterfinger instead of heath bar and it was the BOMB!), to bring over to his friend Jason's that night where we were going to watch the UFC fights. We left Jason's somewhere between midnight and one and headed home on Route 4, which brought us through Farmington. As we were driving along this busy road, a car started to enter onto the road from a side road and we thought at first he was gonna cut us off and Daryl said, "This guy better not pull out in front of us!", but then the driver seemed to come to his senses and slammed on his brakes. We continued on, and I sleepily gazed out the window.
Suddenly, Daryl said loudly, "Whoa! This guy behind us must be cocked! He just rode completely up onto the curb and then back into the road!"
"Just stay far ahead of him, if you can." I begged. "I hate sharing the road with drunk people!" About a minute or two later, after hearing Daryl swear, I looked in my passenger rear view mirror and see headlights speeding up on us.
"What the hell is this guy doing?" Daryl asked angrily. "He's riding my ass!" So Daryl tapped his brakes and behind us, the crazy driver AGAIN slammed on his brakes to keep from hitting us, he was that close.
"What a f*$#ing asshole!" Next thing I know, the crazy driver in the blue Passat puts on a huge burst of speed and crosses the double line to pass us, with oncoming traffic right up ahead.
"He's gonna kill someone!" I cried and threw up my hands whether to block the vision from my sight, or to brace myself who knows, I was acting on instinct. Finally, Daryl had to swerve the car to the right, cuz it was literally only about a breathe away and D would be DAMNED if this jerk was going to hit us. The oncoming traffic, two cars, also swerved out of the way and then kept going.
And this is when it starts to go from bad to worse.
The kid in the blue Passat purposefully slammed his brakes on in front of us, causing Daryl to do the same so as not to hit him. I won't repeat the choice words coming out of D's mouth but I knew it was going to be bad. He was like a bull in a blind rage.
The kid jumped out of his Passat, throwing up his hands and in his probably toughest sounding voice shouted out, "What?! What?! You wanna go???"...and if I had not been so hopped up on adrenaline--shaking like a leaf from the near accident and the drama that might possibly enfold if I didn't stop it--I would have laughed. This kid, no doubt not much older than a high schooler, looked like someone who'd stepped out of Abercrombie and Fitch, and probably weighed all of about 160 lbs. soaking wet. My D, on the other hand, at 5'10 and weighing over two hundred pounds, with muscles in his arms bigger than this kid's head, was going to kill him.
D swung his door open, as the kid got closer, and they were shouting at each other and I knew I needed to get D to simmer down and not step out of that vehicle.
Later, Daryl told me I had grabbed a fistful of his coat, trying to hold him back but honestly I don't remember. I just looked at him and practically begged him in what I hoped was a calming voice, "Honey, please don't get out of this car. You will regret it. Think about things. You have too much to lose to get out and beat the shit out of this punk! If anything, please listen, do it FOR ME!!" Simultaneously while I was talking, I was already dialing 911 on my cell phone.
"Get the f*%$# away from our vehicle you little asshole!" I screamed and held up the cell. "I"m calling the cops!" The kid's face dropped and in an almost childlike voice he asked, "What? You really called the cops? Shit!" And before we could even blink, his little Abercrombie-ass was back in the Passat and speeding away in a tiny blur of tail lights. Daryl slammed his door shut and we started driving again. I gave the 911 operator all the information including license plate and make and model of the punk's car, and told him in what probably sounded like a spazzed voice (I was still shaking like a leaf, it was crazy!) "That kid is going to kill someone! He really is!" As I ended the call, we spotted a flash of blue lights up ahead and Daryl said, "Oh my God!I think they caught him already!"
Sure enough, we drove by that stupid little Passat as one, then two cops had pulled up a third was arriving. Finally! Cops are there when you need them!! By the time we got home, poor D was feeling so sick from his cold, and still wired, that he couldn't go to sleep. He thanked me also, for trying to keep him calm and not letting him get out of the vehicle, cuz he said if it wasn't for me doing that, he would have beaten the crap out of that kid.
Sunday, poor sick D had to go work on a friend's mother's furnace and I figured I do something to cheer him up, so I decided to make Chocolate Chip Oatmeal cookies. I spent most of the morning baking in my bathrobe, totally enjoying the peace and quiet when suddenly I thought to myself, "I should put some clothes on. What if someone were to knock on the door?" Ten minutes after sliding into my sweat pants and tee shirt, there is a quick knock on the door. Creepy, right? LOL
I opened the door to my neighbor (who lives behind us) B, who is a state cop. He had on his track pants and a teeshirt with NO COAT which I thought was weird, considering how cold it was outside, and he had no vehicle parked nearby. A little backround on B...he is dating A, who is a local town cop (not my town) and who lives wiht him. Since meeting them both, about two years ago, they have broken up (including breaking an engagement) at least 2 or 3 times. About a month ago, B told us that it was over and for good this time but that A had no money to move out. So he offered to front her $3,000 to get out...if you knew them and the situation, you'd understand that him essentially "paying" her to move out, was necessary. She is crazy.
So, two months go by and A is still living there. B is at his wit's end and told us he might have to legally evict her because she won't leave. He was trying to avoid any public way of doing it since they are both police officers and who knows how it would affect their jobs. Meanwhile, A was making B's life hell, screaming at him 24 hours a day and not letting anything just GO.
Now here it was Sunday, and B showed up on my door and said that A had taken his coat (which had his wallet in it) and his keys and he could not drive away. She did this everytimne they fought and he wanted to leave. Sometimes she would even physically try to restrain him. Thankfully that hadn't happened on Sunday. I told B he could borrow the truck, and I got him a sweatshirt of Daryl's to wear. In the meantime he called A, and I could hear her shrilly screaming into the phone telling him to come back over to "talk" and not to tell me or D ANYTHING. Talk about nutty! After B left with my truck, my cell rang and I quickly answered it thinking it might be Daryl. It was A!
"Where's Brian?" She demanded.
"He's not here. I just let him borrow the truck."
"You shouldn't have done that. He's an asshole."
"Um, well, A, I felt bad cuz it's cold out and he didn't have a coat on."
"He's a f$@#ing jerk who always runs instead of staying to talk....blah, blah, blah..." She snapped.
"Well, I think he'll be back soon?" I volunteered, knowing it was not true.
"No he's not, he told me he wasn't coming back. What did he tell you? What do you know?! Is Daryl home?" She demanded.
"Uh, not much, A." I stuttered. "just that you guys are fighting and he had to leave. I didn't ask any questions. Daryl is not home, he is cleaning out a furnace." Meanwhile in my head, I have this crazy visual in my head of her storming into my house, long hair flying erraticaly about her head and a murderous gleam in her eye, brandishing a butcher knife or something. My imagination has a tendency to run wild sometimes. I managed to get off the phone with her, double checked the lock on the doors and called Daryl to tell him about Crazy-A, as I now refer to her. After D came home, and B brought back the truck, he asked if I could bring him to his Dad's house and he asked us if we could please keep an eye on th ehouse cuz if A left, he needed to try to get in to retrieve his work clothes and guns (again just a reminder...he is a cop, not some crazy gun-wielding ex-BF. LOL).
About four or five p.m. Daryl realized that Crazy-A had left hte house so dressed only his boxers, a teeshirt and some work boots he'd slid into, he hopped our back fence, while calling B from the cell, and went to see if A left the door unlocked so B could get in. B told Daryl to go in the house and wait for him, he was on the way, but Daryl--picturing Crazy-A coming home and pistol-whipping him with the butt of her revolver--decided to wait outside. I brought him some jeans and a coat, so neighbors wouldn't see a half-naked man peering guiltily into the cops house. Like thieves, they quickly stole into the house, quickly gathered up B's clothes and stuff, and left. Mind you, this is B's house! But now he will have to work on evicting Crazy-A (if she still won't leave) and in the meantime he is not staying at his own home.
What a weekend, people! Anyway, we ended off Sunday on a good (quiet!) note watching lots 'o football in our pj's, D medicating himself with Dayquil, cough drops and a plethora of tissues, and me making us dinner in the crock pot. I tried a new yummy recipe, Slow Cooker Tex-Mex Chicken which is posted on my food blog if you want to try it, and I served it over Rice a Roni Whole Grain Spanish rice, with homemade cornbread on the side. Delish! And perfect, somewhat healthy, comfort food!