That's not what the Death card means

Ha ha, he's fat because he eats lasagna
written 2012-02-07 12:18:51

Yesterday, like famous comic strip cat Garfield, I found myself hating Mondays.


I missed a chunk of work. Yeah yeah, I know, "time off of work is great!" You know what else is great? Being able to pay your bills. But, sure, I'll call this one a mixed bag.

I had to drive around Bucks County. As someone who has enjoyed his shift from a driving routine to a train/mass transit routine, this was a minor annoyance.

I had to go to court. No, no, they didn't finally tie me to those Satanic ritual killings from back in '04. I was there in my professional capacity. And as you probably know if you're reading this, my professional capacity is not very capacious. But I went, besuited and betied, parked and paid to park in Doylestown, before nine AM. Bleah. Thumbs down.

While at court, a judge questioned my ability to practice law. Because, you know, that's what I want. "A little insult with your aggravation, m'sieu?" "Non, merci, non." (Aside: there's a little part of me that desperately wants a judge or some other authority figure to tell me that I can't practice law. That will signal my valiant attempt to have my student loans deleted from my ledger, as a significant hardship. That part of me does not properly understand bankruptcy. [Though those of you thinking "student loan debt can't be discharged in bankruptcy" should do some reading on the subject. Mmmm.])

I lied about my reason for being late to work, because my job - which is terrible and hateful - will be terminated if my bosses learn I am practicing law. Better safe than subject to some kind of conflict of interest action, they say. I say, "it's bad enough we have to do this work to survive, but if we try and do something for ourselves, you'll fire us?"

I worked very late to make up the time. Not a big deal, I work late a lot.

I had to spend the night in Ingrid's and my new place, as a favor to our landlord. I neglected to bring any blankets. It was cold last night, and I am afraid / too cheap to turn up the heat. (Afraid because our neighbor told us she paid $500 to the gas company one month, and too cheap for the same reason.)

My other neighbor's (drunk? insane?) boyfriend showed up at her house last night, as I was trying to park. I could not, because his car blocked the alley. And my garage. I rolled the window down and asked him to move his car. "You have to help me," he said. "Can you move it?" I said. "Can you help me?" he repeated. I gave up and parked down the block. While trying to go to sleep, I heard him yelling "Call the police!" and laying on his car horn. The police came, and I have to assume he's sleeping it off / in protective custody somewhere.

My mantra for that Monday was "everything's coming up Millhouse." I hope your Monday was considerably better.

--12:14 PM, EDT, Philadelphia, PA, I'm'a go Pietro on these cats, right?

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