The things that arrived in a large box on Thursday, and the mental breakdown of my roommate due to the steroids AND testosterone in our home cold water taps... and the "meow meow" in the hot.
Friday: physically molested in line at the Tesco... twice... and bold faced lied to at the Hindley library. I was once a mathematician. I know how to read the hours on the sign. Locked out of a pub with a live band creating a fire hazard for the people inside. Finally, disgustingly sexually harrassed by a bus driver jacking off in front of me as if I would care to see it... ever... on a man pretending to know who I am.
Saturday night: a healthy long walk to find a dancefloor that does not really exist... but the walk was delightful.
Sunday: I stayed home to write snail-mail and heal from the respiratory infection born of all of our home's heat and hot water shut off for almost a week.
Monday: In the wee hours of the morning I was refused the ability to purchase a cough suppressant, was so light-headed from the respiratory infection I actually tripped and skinned my left knee, and called an ambulance to take me to the emergency room in Wigan that admitted me but did not treat me nor even make a medical record for me. My ARC did not work later that morning at the Post Office, so I now am inclined to believe my NASS funding of an entire £5 a day for all expenses, most typically my only food, is now refused to me. A stop in the Citizen's Advice Bureau to deal with this problem. The people there seemed initially inclined to (in a concept off of Mars) think I were an actress playing an asylum seeker... as if any human would willingly endure my forced living arrangements here. By the time I left, they knew the truth... or at least enough of it... and offered me much needed and very humane help.
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