* * *
People, who broke the internet? I spent the morning on the verge of a stroke because I couldn’t connect to my email and couldn’t connect to Stamps.com, and if I can’t connect to Stamps.com I can’t print out postage, and by 10:30, with my foot bugging the shit out of me (it’s more swollen than yesterday, goddamnit) and my FUCKING EMAIL CLIENTS BEEPING AT ME BECAUSE THEY COULDN’T CONNECT I was ready to put my fist through the monitor, and so I got up and walked away from the computer and vacuumed and mopped the dowstairs floors.
And my foot hurts.
I’d blame my crankiness on yesterday’s tetanus shot, but I usually respond poorly to frustration, and so I cannot. In retrospect I should have hopped on the stationary bike and worked off my frustrations.
Although, that never really works, because I just pedal and think about everything that’s pissing me off, and it makes me madder.
And my upper arm hurts where I got jabbed with that damn shot.
I’m a mess. But at least the damn floors got mopped for the first time in a month.
* * *
Me, earlier today: “I swear to god, I’m going to go on a shooting spree!”
Fred: “Who will you shoot?”
Me: “THE GODDAMN INTERNET!”
* * *
Fred is swearing at the Paperclip in Microsoft Word, which is only trying to help him write a letter. Hee!
* * *
On the up side, Fred pointed out that Paypal has a feature wherein you can create a printable packing ship, and he further pointed out that it was ridiculous to create a new Customer: Job in Quickbooks for each and every order, and there was no reason we couldn’t create an invoice per day for all the customers that day, and lo! it was a good fucking idea, and lo! it hath my life easier, thankyajeezus.
* * *
While I was in Maine, Fred went out and bought Weird Al’s
latest album, and last night as we were driving to the post office (which will be a regular part of our routine for the time being) one of the songs came on. It was a sweet, sad song…
I was watching my TV one night when they broke in with a special report
About some devastating earthquake in Peru
There were thirty thousand crushed to death, even more were buried alive
On the Richter scale it measured 8.2
And I said, “God, please answer me one question…
Why’d they have to interrupt the Simpsons just for this?”
What a drag, ’cause I was taping it and everything
And now I’ll have to wait for the rerun to see the part of the show I missed.
Which is when Fred hooted and said “From now on the name of this song is “The Robyn song!”
Weird Al is a funny motherfucker.
* * *
As much as my email response rate (ie, me responding to your emails) has sucked before now, it will suck even worse in the new few weeks, so bear with me. I’ll read your emails, but as far as responding, well, packing those damn books is keeping me busy and I’ll get back to you when I can.
You still love me though, right?
* * *
The squirrel, under the platform feeder (good pickin’s under there, I guess).
Coming out the other side.
Two seconds before Miz Poo exploded out the cat door after him. He’s not nearly as scrawny as he was before he started dining at the And3rson buffet on a regular basis.
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