Is My Give A Damn Busted?

Remember that song from a year or two back about the girl whose man had treated her so badly that he broke her ability to give a damn about him? Cute song, but is it becoming a lifestyle for me?

The drummer I blogged about a few weeks back took a three week break from drumming. I thought his parents had finally decided to show a little courtesy towards their neighbors. More likely he just sprained a wrist because he started drumming again on Monday. The next day he drummed for about 30-45 minutes after school. Well, about 5:15 he started up again. I declared to myself that I had shared my last evening with that little s**t and called the cops on him without a second thought. My give a damn is definitely busted in regards to these neighbors. In January, it took three months of 2-3 daily drumming sessions, 6-7 days a week to drive me to calling the cops. In February, it took three sessions over two days.

Then today at school I had another shockingly (for me) assertive moment. Normally, the parents just wait in line and pull forward as the teachers get the kids out of the cars, but today I had to run inside to take care of a few things. There are two parking spaces near the door for this eventuality. There is a narrow spot in the parking lot where the line snakes through, but two cars can just pass. At least they can pass if some moron in a giant SUV isn't parked smack dab in the middle of the road. So in the few seconds it took me to drive up, I had to decide if I would 1) wait 5 minutes for the teachers to start the drop off procedure so the moron would move forward and I could finally get around, or 2) somehow convince genius girl to get out of my way.

I can guarantee that last year (maybe even last month), I would have waited. But today, I stopped about 4 car lengths behind her, rolled down my window and gave a little honk. When she rolled down her window I asked her (politely, I swear) to scoot over as I needed to get through.

She: I'm in line.
Me: I know, but I need to get through.
She: blah blah there's a line.
Me: I'm not waiting for the drop off. I need. to get. through.
She: Well, I don't know what you want me to do.
Me: (slightly less polite) Well, back up and scoot over so I can get through .

She eventually did this and I went about my business.

I know these aren't earth shaking incidents for normal people. But for a stereotypical doormat like myself? Deciding that a peaceful evening for myself is more important than anything some little punk could have going on? Calling on the police to do my bidding? Confronting someone with a request (a demand really) that they do something for my convenience?

Completely foreign territory.