(a) Olympic Airporter forgot to pick me up for my flight to Charlotte NC.
(b) I paid 10 bucks extra for a rental-car Neverlost GPS that not only couldn’t find where I had to go, but got. me. lost.
(c) I made my debut as a presenter in the new department bare-faced because I left my make-up bag in the car when I jumped into a last-minute cab to the airport.
UPDATE: Turns out that I didn’t leave my make-up bag in the car after all. I packed it into its usual place outside zipper of my suitcase but when I got to Charlotte, IT WASN’T THERE. Draw your own conclusions. The TSA uniforms might not do much for those agents, but they’ll look lovely in my Rose Quartz lipstick.
Sad Realization: Make-up, schmake-up, but my travel size bottle of Ralph Lauren Safari perfume, no longer in production, was also in that case. I swear upon my soul that I am going to sniff every one of those dirty birds that comes across my path and if I detect even a faint hint of what might be Safari, there’s going to be an ugly scene.
(Note to self: Start brown bagging it next week and put saved monies towards bail fund.)
Our telephone dials 911 all by itself.
There are two phone lines in this house and every time it rains, it sounds like there is a double dial tone and the phone is not usable. People who try to call in get a busy signal on both numbers. That’s been happening for a while, but lately the police have been showing up at our house, scaring the stuffing out of the neighbors and annoying our daughter, who must get out of bed to see who is walking around downstairs.
Call the phone company, you say? It is to laugh! It’s Verizon and they are so not sympathetic to the fact that the police, obliged to check out every incoming emergency call, are starting to question our story that we are not making prank calls. Call the phone company all you want – they come when they’re ready. We’ll be lucky if they do any repair on the first trip out here.
I’m worried that the police will stop coming and a real emergency will occur. Perhaps they’ll just assume that its the bad phone lines again and give it a pass. Thanks, Verizon! Don’t forget to send us a bill!
We flirted with that scenario last night. I came home to find Sam busily making supper. Two suppers, in fact. One in the kitchen and one in the garage. With much backing and forthing, he was making tomato sauce on the stove and frying eggplant and chicken in his beloved Fry-Daddy in the garage. Yes, he’s got himself a new Fry-Daddy but he keeps it hidden from me so that I don’t throw this one away, too. He only pulls it out far enough to cook in – never farther than his workbench – and slips it away again before I can get to it.
For some reason, the sauce was in a wide frying pan covered by a cookie sheet and sauce bubbled out onto every surface – not life-threatening, but messy enough so that even he felt the need for immediate clean-up, leaving the Fry-Daddy on its own in a garage full of flammables. It worked out- this time - and we all survived , but still I worry. Would the police have come if another emergency call comes from this house?
Went to a wedding in Atlanta.
That’s all, brother.
Without you, I’m nothing.