GOOOOOD MORNING!
Today a little tale for you about how all handicapped are basically sour, egocentric bitches.
And why…

Let me introduce: I’m Loes, your standard sidewalk attitude bitch in a wheelchair that expects the world revolves around her.

Let’s start the day by waking up and walking the dogs. So the bitch goes outside and without shame drives OVER YOUR TOOLS! And has a collision with your carefully-placed-in-the-middle-of-the-walkway high pressure machine. Which she just throws to the side. What kind of asshole do you have to be for that?

*Wanted answer: oh god I’m so sorry I’ll never touch anything again and will wait patiently everyone from now on!*

Reality? I’ve had two days where I’ve asked them nicely, going both down- and upstairs to please consider me and put things to the side so neither of us is bothered, there is more than enough room. Counts: 4. They’ve done my house, explained again. Counts: 5.
Then one day where I called them outside angrily, why the hell should I ask this for the 6th time? THERE IS ENOUGH ROOM, scuffling and sorry’s, well consider it! Counts: 6. Way back up? No change everything back full on the floor AFTER encounter number 6, so we go for encounter number 7, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD KEEP YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. Today was encounter number 8 & 9. I’m done explaining.

But yeah, I’m the bitch!

Then she goes downstairs, and can’t leave the elevator and the door to the outside doesn’t work. “Just a moment m’am I’m just working here can you come back later?”

*Wanted answer: Of course, I’ve got time and energy spare!*

No I don’t and I want to go outside, my in-home care is coming soon and I simply don’t have the time nor energy to come back later so I’d like to go outside now and walk my dogs.
“Well I’m just working here, can’t just drop everything blablablabla.”

Yep, and I’m just living here trying to grind my teeth to get trough the fucking day and not die of pain.

But yeah, I’m the bitch.

Outside the dogs throw a hissy fit, AND THE BITCH KICKS HER DOG!
Translation: one hand on the knob, other hand holding the leashes, foot free to give Faye a push with less impact compared to the way people hang their dogs on chockingleashes.

But yeah, I’m the bitch.

Bitch goes back and, for some fucking weird reason can wait a minute for me to open the door (They asked a minute) and she said sure, and thank you! What the fuck?

Back upstairs, walkway again littered with tools, this time a handsaw LITERALLY in the middle of the free part of the walkway. Sure, I’m done, I kick it all to the side and have a hit and run with a plastic toolbox. Counts: 9.
Worker comes out muttering swearwords. I ignore him and keep on driving.

*Wanted answer: Oh dear god I’M SOOOO SOORRY HOW DARE I NOT WAIT FOR YOU AND YELL YOU OUTSIDE EVERYTIME YOU WANT TO PASS!*

Real answer: there’s more than enough room for you to store everything to the side, and IF you do that, for me to pass without touching a thing. Like I’ve asked you guys EIGHT times now.

But yeah, I’m the bitch.

I’ve got enough challenges in life without your bullshit.

So yeah, I’m a BITCH AND I’M PROUD OF IT