KidThree called my contact person at Victims' Comp and was told it could take up to two months for us to get the check for the most recent set of receipts I'd sent in. 

Figures.

The IHSS social worker STILL hasn't gotten the paperwork she needs from KidThree's primary physician, so Monday I'm making the 180-mile round trip to go sit in his waiting room all day until someone is pried loose to come talk to me and let me know just what is the reason for the delay.  I'll talk to the newest resident, I'll talk to an intern, I'll even talk to a medical student--just so it's someone who has the authority to go look in the record and find out just WHAT IS THE PROBLEM.  KidThree doesn't have an appt with him until late April (because of his crowded schedule, not because we don't want to go in) and waiting until then would be beyond ghastly.

We're keeping the rent paid and gas in the tank and the minimum of groceries in the kitchen, but that is about it.  My parents have been driven crazy by my inability to make the car payments, my bank account has been overdrawn so long that it's probably closed (I can't access it online anymore), and we're operating on a cash basis entirely--I'm learning about the wonderful world of check-cashing agencies and money cards from Wal-Mart.  I wake up in the middle of the night, my  mind so unsettled it feels like my brain is spinning out of control--parents and money and payments and how much longer before the power is turned off and when will the phones get turned off and KidThree needs bus tickets and the wheel came loose on her chair again and we can't get it fixed by the wheelchair people because the CCS nurses haven't gotten the necessary paperwork from the doctor either but thank goodness the bike store guys will do it for nothing if I can get the chair there before they're closed and is there enough in the kitchen to make four days of meals while I'm gone and oh lordie lordie lordie I'm only here for one day this time but the laundry room is closed for painting so the laundry isn't done and KidThree is running out of clothes and the woman who's been doing the minimum only as her aide is stealing things out of our kitchen and KidThree saw a man walk by wearing her boyfriend's shirt which the aide must have stolen and then sold or given away and do I have the money to get the gas to get me up to the doctor's office on Monday and then back home again.

On the positive side, we are keeping the rent paid and gas in the tank and groceries in the kitchen, and my storage space is paid up.  AND, we advertised on craigslist for a roommate for KidThree, someone to move into the second bedroom that KidTwo had been using.  Not easy to find a roommate to live in that complex, as it is not the best in town (keeping it real, there are drugs and it has its own gang), but we did find someone who wants to move in.  The one thing going for the apartment is that helping KidThree with household and some personal things pays enough (if the paperwork EVER gets back from the doctor to that social worker) to cover the cost of the rent, making it essentially free to live there.  A good deal, if you can ignore the neighborhood.

So, I clean and clean so I can pretend that I'm a little bit in control of something, anything, trying to ignore that it's really just rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.

A