I made it through, all went well, I even managed to make eye contact with the Judge.
She gave me a hell of a break, not even a fine, and she’s been kind enough to give me several months to fix the issues with the blasted car.
By the time I left that courthouse, I felt like my skin was a size too tight and the clothes I’d worn to cover my tattoos and curves (let’s face it either would have set off some people) felt like they were strangling me.
It was too quiet and too loud at the same time.
Getting home even with the relief of not having to cough up money I don’t have in the budget for court things, I still needed some comfort. Even when our fears are assuaged, worried built around them linger.
My servant was waiting when I got home, taking my bag and wrap as always, he pressed a kiss to my hair and sent me upstairs to change. He’d laid out the ugliest garment I own, but from a sensory issue perspective they’re amazing. Yoga pants maybe the biggest eyesore on earth but they’re the softest pants I own. The t-shirt looks like it’s been washed about 750 times, and given it likely has been at least that many washes since I’ve owned it, it’s a miracle it’s still holding together.
When I’d changed he put a mug of hot chocolate in my hands, sat me at my desk and let me decompress before bothering me lol.
We watched Beetlejuice together cuddling on the couch. This day sucks 10000000% less now.
