Cyclothymic Cister

Before the Internet, I used to lie in bed at night composing thoughts as if I were talking to a wise entity. (An actual face never came to mind). I would re-word and re-phrase the thoughts till they were crystal clear. Now I can blog. And hopefully, there are a lot of wise people with real faces out there who might just comment back.

Friday, July 21, 2006

Esther Got Busted


Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Parking Ticket Fiasco

A notice came in the mail saying that I needed to pay a parking ticket. Payment was to be made within 10 days, payable to The City Police Department. I made out a check, put it in an envelope and addressed the envelope to said City Police Dept., using the address that was on the notice.

WTF, the payment came back to me as undeliverable. It seems the forwarding address service has expired. What? Doesn’t the Police Dept. have the courtesy to put their new address on the notices, especially if they expect payment within a certain time? The City spent gobs of money on the new police dept. facility, so you would think they could spring for some updated forms with the correct address.

And to the Postal Service: the police department moved two doors down on the same street. Is it too difficult to figure out where the mail is supposed to go???

So, I went to the Police Department in person, wielding my envelope marked “return to sender”. Through three panes of plate glass, I explained my situation. The lady behind the glass said, “Just a minute, I’ll call the meter clerk.” She was on the phone for a moment, and then said, “Mr. Van Meter will be with you shortly.” Van Meter?? Did you just make that up??

Anyway, I explained to the lady behind the glass that all I wanted to say was that the address should have been correct on the form.

She said, “We’ve moved.”

“I realize that,” I said, as I was standing in the middle of the lobby in the NEW BUILDING just down the street from the old building.

“The address should have been CHANGED on the form,” I explained.

She said that she was surprised, because Mr. Van Meter usually does change it on the form. So I opened the envelope to take a look, (I had enclosed the original notice). Sure enough in 4 pt font, the mail-to address was there, and in just as small handwriting the street number was crossed out and the correct one written in.

But at the bottom of the form, in bold 14 pt font was the OLD Police Department address. For those of us who need reading glasses, we aren’t going to look for the 4pt font we are naturally going to see the big bold address. My point is, they should have gotten new forms to go along with their fancy smacy new facility. (Don’t get me wrong, I respect and support our law enforcement, local and national. This was just small town stupidity).

I handed the lady the envelope with my payment and asked if she could just give it to Mr. Van Meter. She said, “Yes,” with a smile on her face.

No wonder she is behind three panes of plate glass.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Pippy is Missing

My cat Pippy has been missing for three days. Please come home Pippy. I miss you. Besides, how can I tell her?

Friday, July 14, 2006

Good Lighting


This week at work I noticed that I had a nice color to my complexion. My skin looked healthy and vibrant. I thought that all the physical work I’ve been doing lately reversed the aging process. Then I realized that the florescent light was burnt out in the office bathroom.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Curb Appeal Doesn't Come Easy

My husband and I have been working every weekend for a couple of months in 90 degree weather with humidity at 239%, to get our rental property ready to sell by painting, building a deck, finishing a tool shed, installing appliances, etc. Here are some specifics:

I have sweated off 10 lbs.

We purchased furniture in kits to put in the house to stage it for showing. If you can put a piece on backwards—or upside down-- my husband and I did it . . . every time, at every stage of the process. We were giddy about having one piece almost finished. The final stage: sliding the drawer into place. But what the hell, the drawer slides were at the top instead of the bottom. We had to take every last piece apart to fix it. Now that we are experts at putting together furniture and tightening cam locks, we’ll probably never use that skill again.

Working side by side with my husband doing things that HE is good at caused me to see him with eyes of admiration. He seemed to be indefatigable as he worked to get things accomplished, tasks that would cause weaker individuals to give up. In truth, though, we were both exhausted but we pressed on, building rapport with every nail we drove, and every board we cut. I guess it is kind of like the rapport built by military units. We marched on claiming ground as we went. On the 4th of July, we hung an American Flag on the front porch of the house and put a “For Sale” sign in the front yard. I think we won the battle. I know we won one for the relationship. My respect for my spouse grew to new heights.

Remember I said we were exhausted? We went home and fell asleep right after dinner. The next morning my husband discovered that he had left the garage door open (not just unlocked, but wide open) and the door from the garage to the house wide open (again not just unlocked, but open). The neighbor’s tomcat was standing the middle of the kitchen. The smell of cat spray permeated the entire house. Oh well, just another thing. But the neighbors shouldn’t be surprised when their cat mysteriously comes up neutered.

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Prettier than any Flower

My Granddaughter.

Flowers at my House