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A Little Mud on the Tires

I am not sure that this is what Brad Paisley had meant…


Forgiveness a United States President once typed to me.


I am not really in the mood for this today.  I do not know the exact reason why, but depression has sunk in over the last few days.  Maybe it’s just one of those… things that happens from time to time.  Disabling things.  Things that happen almost as if to intentionally disable me.  I had intended to write accompanying letters regarding the other mentioned issues.  I have not done that.  I had also intended to note all the damage descriptively.  I have not done that.

I do know this trip was not worth it from the start.  After such a rough few years and a terrible time clearing the arteries and getting myself up and running, I was finally on an upswing.  Then I took this trip which took twice as long and was full of nothing but headaches.  In returning from this trip, I felt my work drive disappear because I could no longer secure items in the truck.  With a two week delay before seeing an adjuster, I just elected to empty it and correct some prior installs.  Now I haven’t worked in two weeks.  I haven’t written anything I wanted to.  And I haven’t even re-assembled the interior so it would be less of a shock to the insurance company.  I actually figured this was in my interests if there was third party interest, so I elected not to bother.

I do not know why.  Depression is just hitting me hard.  It’s not the damage.  I can forgive that and I already have.  Do you know what I think it is?

I think it is because the “System” never engaged my needs over the last three years.  It never engaged what I and everyone else has needed it to do.  I have had no choice but to move on and begin healing.  Scar tissue and the like mentally bandages over everything in that process.  Now here I am…  pretty much impossible to unwrap the bandages and verbally explain the bigger picture and how this organization can best handle things.  Who is at fault for this?  Ultimately me.  I am suppose to dig myself out from under the dumpings of a sewer truck while everyone else just looks the other way and ignores their own mis-handlings.  They ignore their own opportunities.

Anyways, I do not have the mental/emotional strength to keep writing this, nor the time.  If I keep writing I will be late.  I do not want to be late.  I do want to say that I was very pleased with Constable Doyle of the Powell River RCMP.  I thought he was a really good guy and a fine Officer.  I would have left him that in his voicemail today, but I do not like verbal interactions and perhaps this even suits him better.  The world can know.

File:  2019-3404

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