Monday, September 18, 2006

Not my day...

Started with chipping a plate as I was washing dishes this morning, a big chip out of the rim. :-( Then on the way home from doing waxing on one of my clients I got a ticket for not stopping at a stop sign. I could swear I stopped. He says, no, I looked, but I just rolled right through. Hmmm... Thought about doing the traffic school, but it would cost the same as the ticket, AND bore me half to death for 8 hours. They probably wouldn't let me knit either.

From there I went to vote at the primaries. The little fluffy haired old lady got all worked up because the address on my license and the address they have for me on the voter rolls are not the same. I told her the address on my license is corrected at DMV, and that my voter registration card shows the same addy as they have on their list. Well, she was all worked up. Did DMV send me a sticker to put on my license? How does she know I'm entitled to vote in this district? She just doesn't know what to do. I might have to go over and talk to those two ladies over there about voting on a special ballot. I said Look, Sister. I have been voting in this district for the last 6 years. My new house is TWO DOORS DOWN from my old house. And I have been voting for the last two years since I moved from the old house to the new house and no one has given me a hard time yet. Why now? Oh, she says, well, they are getting to be real sticklers for these things. That maybe I have something else I can show her with my correct address on it. I looked at her (all the while resisting the strong urge to grasp her firmly by her little fluffy white cardigan lapels and bring her forehead smartly and rapidly into contact with my own before replacing her in her folding chair) and said I have no idea what you think I can produce! I can show you my checkbook, it has my name and my address. Well, she looked at it but still wasn't sure what to do. All the while my eyebrows are hoisting further and further up my forehead. A word to the wise- if my eyebrows start raising or are already raised, back away slowly, don't make any sudden moves, don't turn your back and don't run. I was just taking breath to ask her if she actually thought she was NOT going to allow me to exercise my legal right to vote, when someone else came along and asked if my voter registration card had the correct address. YES! I said, I just told her that. Then that person told Old Fluffy it was all right, to go ahead and let me vote. After I was done, they told me I could take an 'I Voted' sticker off of the roll if I wanted one. I'm taking the whole damned roll! Just try to stop me!

Then I came home and wanted to add the rest of our monthly bills to the online bill pay system at our bank, but I don't get a statement from the cell phone company. So I call to ask for their mailing address. After speaking to the computer for a few minutes, I get a human. How can I help you, he asks? I want your mailing address so that I can set up automatic payment through my bank. Well, he says, as if speaking to an idiot. There are two ways you can make automatic payments. I already know where he is going with this. You can pay through us, or you can pay through your bank. I want to pay through my bank, I said slowly and distinctly, through clenched teeth. Oh, he says, then you'll have to talk to your bank to set that up!

Well, Dear Readers. That was my last straw. I told him loudly and with great feeling that I KNOW I have to set that up through my bank, but I can't do that without their blessed mailing address.

I have spent the rest of the afternoon knitting.

Saturday at the library, while G is reading his magazine and I am knitting and waiting for him to be ready to go, after listening to the old man across from us wetly sniffing REPEATEDLY for ten minutes til I wanted to smack him, then he wipes his nose on his fingers and keeps reading his magazine with his snotty fingers. Then someone behind us on the computers keeps making calls on her cell phone. Next an enormous woman comes scuffing up in her flip flops. Scuff, scuff, scuff, scuff, scuff across the carpet. Picks out her magazine and sits down opposite us, and begins to PANT LIKE A DOG. I turned to Graham and said, Suddenly I understand why security people see knitting needles as potential weapons.


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