About Me

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Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!

Thursday, September 03, 2009

I have excellent taste.

This confirms it: at $1,199.00, I no longer feel bad about falling in love with (and eventually buying) a chest of drawers that originally retailed for merely $500.00.

[No, I will not be buying this chair. I have no place to put one. But it sure is pretty!]

OK, I am now officially cranky. Why? Because it’s my week to go get the early mail, and we have a new delivery dude for the late-morning mail, and an earlier time. What this means, in practical terms, is that I drove to the PO and lugged a 40-lb bucket of mail down the PO steps, over to the pool car, unlocked the car, unlocked the back door, put the bucket on the back seat, put my knitting in the passenger seat in case I got lucky with the traffic lights and had lots of red ones on the way back to the office [I did not, and I discovered a dropped stitch], pulled into the parking space, backed up, centered the car a little better, got the mail out of the back seat, locked the car, unlocked the car because the back door was ajar and the car was beeping at me, relocked the car, lugged the 40-lb bucket out of the garage and up the stairs to the parking level of the building (which is nearly a full flight up from the garage) and to the elevator, up seven floors and through the extremely heavy safety glass doors of our suite, and up onto the counter at switchboard.

I was hot. I was sweaty. I was breathing hard. And I did not even have a spate of kisses with Sean Connery or somebody equally yummy to account for it.

But I did have 40 lbs of mail to sort through, open, and remove the staples from. Oh, and the scanning operator, the person who goes down and gets the later mail? She came back with four pieces of fresh non-junk mail.

[This is the point where my kids all snicker and remind me exactly how many times I told them that life isn’t fair.]

And then I looked over and saw that the fax machine was spazzing because it was out of paper. No wonder. Some bozo sent us a 200+ page motion. What? They’ll take over a third of their client’s settlement, if there is one, and they couldn’t afford postage? The scanning operator was about as impressed as I was.

[OK, I feel better now. Sometimes I just have to write a situation out, and then I can begin to see the humor in it, or at least get a bit of perspective.]

In the Good news department: lovely, lovely chat with Trainman on the ride home. He loaned me Robert B. Parker’s first published piece of young-adult fiction. Nice, quick read, which I did before going to bed last night. And breakfast with him [Trainman, not Robert B. Parker ~ Mrs. Parker might object] on Saturday morning; he’ll pick me up at 7:30. And a doll meet followed by a dance, tomorrow night.

Oh goodness, what have we here?



Good thing I have other knitting in my bag for when this is finished, which might be today.

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