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Late Morning - December 12th, Sunday I have to remember to bring the water hose in. We've had a few freezes already, but better late than never. The garage isn't much safe harbor, but it's got to somehow be better than sitting out in the open, I would imagine. I need to trim the hedge but haven't had a chance to see if the yellowjackets are dead yet. I would assume the freezes would have either done them in, or made them move on, or whatever yellowjackets do in winter. A huge, wooden crate has been sitting on our doorstep for a good week now. It's not for us. The company had it shipped to the wrong house number, and I'm not interested in exerting any more fucking effort than I already do in my life. I'm apt to let the god damn thing sit there until someone steals it. I just really can't muster up the concern for it. My only real concern in the matter is that it looks like our front porch is under construction, like we're ripping out a wall or a doorway. It looks bad, but I work so fucking much I just can't get myself to care, or to go do something about it. I checked to see what company it came from, and who shipped it, and beyond that, I just can't get myself motivated to start making the appropriate phone calls and leaving the obligatory voice mails on nameless and eventually useless extensions. In some ways, I hate modern life. But it sure as hell beats being routinely raped and giving birth on an annual basis to yet another human being I would have to do everything for. *Update: I called the company ("We are open daily... MONDAY THROUGH FRIDAY" Ah, then that's not technically considered 'daily' anymore, ma'am.) but their voicemail system is stupid and is requiring me to think up a name of someone who might work there. I don't have a god damn contact name so just let me leave a fucking voicemail, please. But no, the piece of shit system wants me to have a contact name. On a whim, I pressed zero, and the system allowed me to leave a voicemail, however the dense lady's outgoing message does say, "We will be closed from July 2nd to July 5th" so I'm aware now that if the goober hasn't changed her outgoing message since summer, there's the very real chance that no human will ever hear my voicemail. So, now I have spent MY (rare) time off work, trying to fix SOMEONE ELSE'S fucking idiocy. So after two calls to both their numbers, and an explanatory voicemail TO NO ONE, I'm not any fucking further along in this clusterfuck than when I started. Did I mention we had a small, manageable fire in the toaster oven? Yes. That's why you clean out the crumbs once a year. We were both very calm about it. Michael kept cooking and I put it out and kept talking. You'd think we put out toaster oven fires every day. I paid off the hospital bill. So now everything's paid off. No debt. Done. I am a bad ass. I found out I still had a box of junk in the barn. A big stack of Rolling Stone issues. Several travel maps and foreign language books. Three t-shirts. One of a dog breed I used to have, back when I used to believe in the stupidity of purebreds (what an idiotic thing to aim for). One of a car club festival from 1993. And one I really wish I could have salvaged, because I still love it, but the image of two decades of mouse piss and shit convinced me to throw it out. I also found a great porcelain pendulum clock. Inexpensive model with plastic parts, but gorgeous overall. However, it's broken and I've tried twice to fix it, but it's caused me to throw things both times, so I'm probably going to store it in a closet for future debate some summer when I'm in a clock-repairing mood. I think it's bullshit that they force you to be locked-down with your insurance choices for an entire calendar year and force you to stay with that until another year rolls around. I really fucking hate that. Makes me want to forgo the whole bullshit.
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