I am apparently going back to work on Tuesday, woot. No more lazy days, so I guess it's just as well I slept in this morning.
I have done paperwork and prepared my taxes, and now I think I shall take the dog for a long walk. Then I have to clean my house in preparation for having a couple of college-student friends of my niece sleep in my guest room (they're here for a frisbee tournament out in the central valley).
At least I'm getting $ back on my taxes, given that I still won't be paid for at least two or three more weeks. Bleah.
Suela, I do remember having to ask my sister for her SSN but I think that was for insurance, not wages.
I am also hearing "hookers and blow" in that dog commercial way. Or as "Hookers and blow, batman!"
I meant to post this for Wisconsin, Michigan, Indiana union sympathizers. The dive bar that plays old country [link] was playing it last night.
I dropped the busted chair off at the dump and did my time at the gym. Nothing was remotely Hookers and Blow related, nor could I find a reasonable excuse to drop the phrase into conversation. Maybe that means I need to have different conversations?
I can't wait until I can do my taxes since I had to pay guesstimated taxes last year based on information provided by my sister, so G*d only knows how much I owe or am due.
Maybe that means I need to have different conversations?
You could yell "hookers and blow" and then see what kind of conversation ensues.
Okay, taxes filed. I think I need a nap before the dog-walk.
I have not followed through on my onerous task at all. But in avoiding it I did my grocery shopping, washed a load of dishes, started my chicken and dumplings, and shaped my challah for the next month (all risen now and ready to go in the oven as soon as the tiles heat up). And brought in the azalea so it won't freeze tonight. All of which were kind of onerous for me. So, now a total waste, but not an unqualified success, either.
You could yell "hookers and blow" and then see what kind of conversation ensues.
At the Y? Sadly, I'm thinking the conversation would involve where to turn over my membership card. Although I'm sure the rampaging hordes of 8 year olds would find it interesting and educational.
I bet the dump attendants would have been intrigued, though. Until they realized that the bin I was dumping my chair into wasn't a crime scene of some sort.
