Last night, The Boyfriend called me at work to let me know that my cousin Lucifer, he of the jail and prison stays (he's been exonerated, but I look for it to catch up someday) and substance abuse issues, had turned up on my front porch. The bad part is that The Boyfriend let him in. Lucifer is kind of like a vampire in that once he gets across the threshold, he's not leaving until he's ready to go. In this case, it was 8:45 this morning. He was so blotto that he hardly knew where he was or who he was, yet by sheer instinct, he ended up at my house. The local police have poured him out into my custody more than once, too, when they didn't want him driving the thirty-five miles to his parents' home.
Lucifer doesn't pop up as much as he once did. Apparently he's recently lost his engineering job with a company manufacturing diesel engine components, and his stepfather (who raised him) is dying. His grandmother has been steadily losing her mind over the past few years, and his mother is confined to a wheelchair, having had a stroke while driving. She crashed her car into a tree; the combination left her paralyzed, and his stepfather and grandmother providing her care. He's an only child and now facing a lot of tough days ahead. His solution? Drink himself stupid and crash on AiredaleGirl's couch!
The best part is that he usually gets up about three a.m. and decides that he's sober enough to trail on home...flinging the front door open and not paying an iota of attention to my dogs. Given how drunk he was last night (which was VERY drunk, even by his standards), we couldn't pry him up off the couch and we also wouldn't go to sleep for fear of his releasing my Airedales in the middle of the night. So here I am, with a meeting in a few minutes and promotion folders to read afterward, and el zilcho sleep.
Oh, and an Airedale mix for whom I was arranging rescue from deepest, darkest Appalachia was "placed" by a "local rescue". She was found two hundred miles away near my hometown a few days ago, with her spay sutures still in place and a hernia, probably from a popped stitch...she was spayed on January 7th. It's definitely the same dog- found in the county where HSUS and the Animal Legal Defense Fund are investigating the local shelter for heinous abuse and murder of animals in their care, including animals from my home county, which contracts to them for shelter services. I was e-mailing both of those organizations yesterday, and have been on the phone several times with the SPCA volunteer back home who has the dog in her custody.
In addition, a problem patron spoke to our new twentysomething year-old cataloger, Mrs. Expectant Young Wife and Mother, as if she is a very dense three year-old (I remember the days of being mistaken for a student and dressing like a sixty year-old church lady to try to make myself a little more 'official-looking'). She is young, but she's not a teenager, and this mean older lady is not a student, i.e., if she can't exhibit better manners, she's free to head on over to the very lovely public library...provided her sunny self has not already been banned. She waited until right after I left work to pull this nice stunt. How charming.
Yes, yesterday was a strange day. This one has just been hectic. Ah, well, onward to the meeting and then the folders await. Yuck.