CRAP...

So, I was just sitting there last night, quietly minding my own business, playing a game of Big Kahuna 2 and watching the newest installment of So You Think You Can Dance, when the doorbell rings. I answered the door and was promptly served papers by a collection agency, suing me for the $6k I owe them. I am currently making payments to them through a debit reduction agency. You can imagine my dismay. I made a conscience effort not to completely freak out and run screaming into the streets; I also made a conscience effort not to turn my living room into a circus of flying breakable objects. However, my efforts at making a conscience decision not to eat were over-ruled and the pizza man soon came calling, complete with two crunchy chocolate lava cakes. Crap.

This morning my feet and ankles were much less swollen and I was pleased, as were my feet and ankles. I decided to step onto the scale, just for giggles to get an idea of where I am these days. Not the greatest decision. It said 330.8; my officially highest weight of my lifetime. I felt like a senator, screaming “YOU LIE!!” at my scale. It did not change the ugly, ugly facts. Crap.

I am now currently at work, waiting for the debt reduction service to call me back to explain why I am being sued.

UPDATE: Well, the debt reduction service just call me back, and crap has now turned to…well, you know…the stuff that hits fans and that creeks are made out of. With corn and great big chunks of me in it. Apparently, the collection agency never agreed to the payment offer that the debt reduction place told them I would be making. I did not know this. I thought they accepted it and every thing was honkey dorey. I felt so good because I was getting my debt paid off and was fulfilling my responsibility as an adult and paying back money that I legitimately owe. Yeah, well, surprise to me. The debit gal said to write the court a letter, explaining the situation and as for a trial. A trial? Seriously? I don’t want to go to trial!! For once I actually don’t feel like eating; I feel like barfing. Repeatedly. Until I die. I swear, I think that all my problems will finally be solved approximately two weeks after my death; I will finally be at the weight I have always wanted to be, and all my bill collectors will finally stop hounding me for money.

I called Sissy from the warehouse on my cell phone, crying my head off. She was very sympathetic and calming, which is exactly why I called her! She thought that maybe I should call the bankruptcy lawyer back that I was working with before I decided to go the debit reduction route. I hate to declare bankruptcy, but I can’t have them garnish my wages if the judge rules for the collection agency, which the debt reduction gal is pretty sure he will. Must…not…use…F-word… After hanging up with her I sat on the dock and wept and felt sorry for myself for a little while, then got it together and came back into the office. I had waiting for me an email from the warehouse foreman that had witnessed my melt down, offering his empathy and listening ear. What a sweetheart. He told me he currently has five judgments against him, and is being garnished monthly for about $850. Oh. Suddenly I feel slightly idiotic, but it still doesn’t change the fact that I have to get this taken care of, and it doesn’t really change my anxiety level that much. I am terrified that if my landlord somehow finds out, he will evict me. He sees this kind of thing as a huge flaw in character, and when I signed my lease, it was on his list of things that he will boot someone’s butt to the curb for. But, this is just a sign of my anxiety – catastrophe predictions. There is no way he can find out unless I tell him, and deep down I know that. Right? Right. Of course, Harriett is trying to use this against me in typical Nazi bitch style. So far, I am able to smother her with my psychological pillow, and she isn’t squirming too much. That will come later this evening after work when I am home with no distractions to keep me from listening to her. I will just have to deal with that when it happens.

CRAP.