All my life, I've wanted to serve jury duty.
Yes, I know that usually you just sit there forever in the waiting room, doing nothing. And you don't get paid for it (at least, not really).
But it's a service to your community and your country, and I've always felt that service was a good thing. Paying back your community for all the things it provides you is something you should do, willingly and with a sense of satisfaction.
And if I actually got to serve on a jury, even better. I'd be a good jury member. I'm fairly bright, I am fairly logical, I'm big on details, I respect at least the ideal of the law and justice, and I'm relatively driven to be as fair as possible to all sides. I enjoy doing things I'm good at.
And I've worked from home for most of the last two decades, and have a flexible schedule, so it wouldn't inconvenience me in the least to serve, other than perhaps a certain soreness in the back or knees from sitting all day.
During the last two decades my husband has worked either two jobs (sometimes two full time jobs) or one job with 10-hour days. He has been called to jury duty twice in that time. It's been a huge sacrifice for him, and although he is mindful of his duty, he really would have preferred not to have to take the time from work. Our finances have never been what you'd call comfortable, so it was a bit of a hardship for the family.
Now my 21-year-old son has been called.
I have never been called. Not once. And at this point I'm not likely to be allowed to serve, even if I am called before I fall off the perch - my physical condition would now prevent me from eligibility.
Figures.**
**At least in this case, as the quote goes, the law is an ass. Why can't people volunteer to be on a 'will call' list for service when their time is flexible? Then if they are summoned again when it's less convenient, they can be excused on the basis that they have served in the last four years. It would be so much easier for people, and the courts would have to deal with fewer whiners and shirkers, saving time and frustration for everyone. I'm just saying...
Showing posts with label Whinging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Whinging. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Irony We Didn't Need
Okay, go look at the fine print at the bottom of our last post.
Now, a week later:
Someone (probably a youngish someone) broke into our van, and stole our stereo/cd player. They won't get $10 for it, but they used very rough tactics to get at it, completely destroying the entire center panel of the van. Which means we'll not only have to replace the stereo; we'll have to replace the center panel, the cupholders, the a/c and fan and heating and defrosting controls and wires and the entire center faceplate, plus a bit of the surrounding panels as well. The cost is going to be high - and so, unfortunately, is our deductible.
Sadly to say, this is the least of our problems. But it's not a problem that we needed right now.
It's the beginning of July, and I am already SO over this summer...
Now, a week later:
Someone (probably a youngish someone) broke into our van, and stole our stereo/cd player. They won't get $10 for it, but they used very rough tactics to get at it, completely destroying the entire center panel of the van. Which means we'll not only have to replace the stereo; we'll have to replace the center panel, the cupholders, the a/c and fan and heating and defrosting controls and wires and the entire center faceplate, plus a bit of the surrounding panels as well. The cost is going to be high - and so, unfortunately, is our deductible.
Sadly to say, this is the least of our problems. But it's not a problem that we needed right now.
It's the beginning of July, and I am already SO over this summer...
----
Friday, December 3, 2010
Why Can't We All Just Get Along?
My new roommates have taken to fighting constantly, and it's driving me batty.
It doesn't help that the heating ducts create a magnifying resonance to their voices, so that I can hear them swearing at each other very clearly from nearly anywhere in the house.
I guess it's their business if they want to beat up on each other (I can hear the blows falling), but it would help if they weren't so da*ned shrill.
I wish the cat would put a stop to it, but she's old and deaf, and sleeps right through the altercations.
Sometimes I hate winter.
Stupid mice.
It doesn't help that the heating ducts create a magnifying resonance to their voices, so that I can hear them swearing at each other very clearly from nearly anywhere in the house.
I guess it's their business if they want to beat up on each other (I can hear the blows falling), but it would help if they weren't so da*ned shrill.
I wish the cat would put a stop to it, but she's old and deaf, and sleeps right through the altercations.
Sometimes I hate winter.
Stupid mice.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Seriously?
I am hopelessly, and perhaps pigheadedly naive.
No, really. Because yesterday (well, technically, the day before - Wednesday) I truly was stunned and disbelieving when the guy in the giant gas-guzzling monster truck in the highway exit lane was speeding up and slowing down, lather rinse and repeat, in order to keep us from being able to get off on our exit. Even though he was endangering his own ability to stay on the highway. In the end he nearly caused all of us to get accordianed in some icy smoky death-capade - when he finally zoomed into our lane (an inch off our bumper), he hit his brakes immediately. We barely swerved into the exit lane at the last second and missed him by a hair.
And yes, he WAS doing it on purpose. I know, because he was looking right at me and waving and laughing (I was in the passenger seat) at the time. I mean, he was meeting my eyes at the time. It was not a friendly laugh, either. I'm not sure he would have cared if we'd run into him. I think he figured his truck made him invulnerable, so who cared if he wiped two middle aged commuters off the face of the earth?
It was bizarre, and unnerving. What sort of person acts like that? And why would anybody allow him to be in charge of that much potentially deadly steel?
It was also frustrating. My darned cell phone turned out to be out of battery...
No, really. Because yesterday (well, technically, the day before - Wednesday) I truly was stunned and disbelieving when the guy in the giant gas-guzzling monster truck in the highway exit lane was speeding up and slowing down, lather rinse and repeat, in order to keep us from being able to get off on our exit. Even though he was endangering his own ability to stay on the highway. In the end he nearly caused all of us to get accordianed in some icy smoky death-capade - when he finally zoomed into our lane (an inch off our bumper), he hit his brakes immediately. We barely swerved into the exit lane at the last second and missed him by a hair.
And yes, he WAS doing it on purpose. I know, because he was looking right at me and waving and laughing (I was in the passenger seat) at the time. I mean, he was meeting my eyes at the time. It was not a friendly laugh, either. I'm not sure he would have cared if we'd run into him. I think he figured his truck made him invulnerable, so who cared if he wiped two middle aged commuters off the face of the earth?
It was bizarre, and unnerving. What sort of person acts like that? And why would anybody allow him to be in charge of that much potentially deadly steel?
It was also frustrating. My darned cell phone turned out to be out of battery...
Monday, November 23, 2009
Movies Yes, Parking Spaces No
This past week I went to the movie theaters three times. It was a revelation.
First of all, what's with the handicapped permits? There were literally dozens of handicapped parking spaces, and both of the mid-week afternoons I went, the handicapped spaces were either all or nearly all filled. In one case all the spaces in the entire theater lot were filled, and all the spaces in the lots surrounding the entire huge mall were filled except one lonely handicapped space (oddly, on the opposite end of the lot from any of the entrances - possibly for a person handicapped by a pathological fear of doors?).
Either November is an extremely fashionable month for hip replacements, or they were giving permits out with the candy at the DMV this Halloween.
Oddly enough, when we went to see a movie on Saturday, the parking lots were practically empty.
Another issue: in all three visits, the new Twilight Saga movie, "New Moon", was sold out right up to the last showing, in spite of the fact that it was showing at multiple screens in all three (different) theaters. Also in spite of the fact that all the reviews I've seen have been... well, to put it very gently, a bit sparing in the praise department. Now, to be fair, my son reports that his college-aged friends thought their viewing of the show was quite enjoyable - but then, he also reports that his friends were very possibly inebriated and very definitely howling loudly whenever a werewolf character came on screen, which was a fairly frequent event. I suspect they also were enjoying the squeaky presence of the impressionable high school girls that comprised the remainder of the audience.
So here's what I can report: The Michael Jackson movie, "This Is It", is reasonably interesting... but wasn't quite interesting enough to keep me awake during its entire impressive length. The semi-autobiographical "Blind Side" - a movie about the inspirational high school experience of the Raven's recent draft pick, Michael Oher - was predictable and sweet and touching, a good movie for families and dates. The most recent remake of Dickens' classic, "A Christmas Carol", was heavy on the scary, and wince-worthy in the "obligatory unnecessarily extended chase scene" department (although I thought that with the addition of trees and a flaming pumpkin, it would have made for an admirable scene for "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"), but overall it was an interesting and entertaining addition to the ever-expanding lineup of movies devoted to the traditional holiday tale.
In the meantime, my travails in having to share theater lines (and parking lots) with hoards of shrieking, mincing, giggling girls were somewhat mitigated by this gift from my son. He understands my Inner Scrooge...
First of all, what's with the handicapped permits? There were literally dozens of handicapped parking spaces, and both of the mid-week afternoons I went, the handicapped spaces were either all or nearly all filled. In one case all the spaces in the entire theater lot were filled, and all the spaces in the lots surrounding the entire huge mall were filled except one lonely handicapped space (oddly, on the opposite end of the lot from any of the entrances - possibly for a person handicapped by a pathological fear of doors?).
Either November is an extremely fashionable month for hip replacements, or they were giving permits out with the candy at the DMV this Halloween.
Oddly enough, when we went to see a movie on Saturday, the parking lots were practically empty.
Another issue: in all three visits, the new Twilight Saga movie, "New Moon", was sold out right up to the last showing, in spite of the fact that it was showing at multiple screens in all three (different) theaters. Also in spite of the fact that all the reviews I've seen have been... well, to put it very gently, a bit sparing in the praise department. Now, to be fair, my son reports that his college-aged friends thought their viewing of the show was quite enjoyable - but then, he also reports that his friends were very possibly inebriated and very definitely howling loudly whenever a werewolf character came on screen, which was a fairly frequent event. I suspect they also were enjoying the squeaky presence of the impressionable high school girls that comprised the remainder of the audience.
So here's what I can report: The Michael Jackson movie, "This Is It", is reasonably interesting... but wasn't quite interesting enough to keep me awake during its entire impressive length. The semi-autobiographical "Blind Side" - a movie about the inspirational high school experience of the Raven's recent draft pick, Michael Oher - was predictable and sweet and touching, a good movie for families and dates. The most recent remake of Dickens' classic, "A Christmas Carol", was heavy on the scary, and wince-worthy in the "obligatory unnecessarily extended chase scene" department (although I thought that with the addition of trees and a flaming pumpkin, it would have made for an admirable scene for "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"), but overall it was an interesting and entertaining addition to the ever-expanding lineup of movies devoted to the traditional holiday tale.
In the meantime, my travails in having to share theater lines (and parking lots) with hoards of shrieking, mincing, giggling girls were somewhat mitigated by this gift from my son. He understands my Inner Scrooge...
Monday, August 31, 2009
Wagons, Ho...
In case you were wondering about the whiny tone of my last entry, I wrote it while trapped in my house because our car had imploded rather spectacularly and loudly that weekend and was being towed away to the mechanics as I typed. Things looked dire, and our bank account was hemorrhaging in a scary manner with each passing minute.
The car repair was more than we could afford, of course, and it seems likely the rotten machine will need more repair within the week - but it's running again, at least for the moment, and it cost less than buying a new (used) car. (Big sigh of relief from the audience, thank you, thank you...)
Looks like I'll be able to go to the retreat, at the very least.
The trip to the Black Hills is still up in the air, but I hope... I hope... well, I hope to pet a prairie dog and gawk at a mammoth skeleton on my 50th birthday, is what I hope. We'll see.
In the meantime, the Teenaged Thug is entering his second week of his Freshman Junior** year of college, and seems to be doing pretty well, from the tiny window of information I'm allowed from my lowly parental position. In other words, he breezes in late at night, kisses (or worse, scroofles) my head as he passes by, and answers all questions with some version of "Fine. Fine. It's going fine, mom," while scurrying off to hole up in his bedroom.
I should know better than to ask. But I can't help myself. I'm a mother.
On the knitting front, I've got the neon orange lace socks done. Picture that in your head - and then try to forget you did, before your brain explodes. It's just as tacky as it sounds. Of course, I absolutely love them. There's no accounting for taste, especially mine.
I am following that feat up by knitting a pair of socks for Scott that raise the retina-damage-factor significantly from the bar set by my brilliant attempt to warn hunters away from my clodhoppers. I'm using some colorfully marled and striped Trekking Maxima (the orange mentioned above was also of the Maxima line; go for the gusto when you are lucky enough to have a husband who isn't afraid of color, I say), and then I'm adding my own little Barbara Walker-inspired twist on the whole thing.
I can't wait to get my stupid camera fixed. You have GOT to see this...
**This refers to the Thug's particular situation, in which he is graduating from high school with enough college credits to start his official college career as a Junior. More on that at some point in the future. This post is long enough!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Vacation, All I Ever Wanted...
The dear hubby and I have never had a Real Vacation together.
Well, okay, not exactly true.
We spent one night at a B&B in Stockholm, Wisconsin for our fifth anniversary, which was nice. We saw an eagle, strolled through a couple art/craft/'antique' stores, lusted after a few really lovely Amish quilts, and ate some very nice ice cream. We highly recommend Stockholm, WI to anyone interested, although the quilts are no longer there.
For our 'honeymoon' we went to Madison overnight to visit a friend who turned out to be too busy to spend time with us, so we shared one night in the guest-room twin bed (I was 5 months pregnant and still had all-day morning sickness, so you can imagine how thrilling that was) and then we high-tailed it back home, with a brief stopover at House On the Rock (see below). Whee.
We once spent a few days at Rose Lake with Scott's relatives. Bren loved being with his cousins, which is great. But it was very hot, the relatives understandably wanted to spend all their time with their coolers and the beautiful lake, and I'm allergic to the sun (really - I get hives). So I was stuck alone inside the small 2-room (tv-less, a/c-less) cabin-without-a-view with not much to do except read, sweep sand off the floor, and frown at crossword puzzles. Scott would have kept me company at least part of the time, but early on he jumped into the lake with his keys in his pocket... well, they were in his pocket when he went in. Naturally he had to make the 6 hour drive back home in a borrowed car so that he could break into the house and get my keys*, then drive another 6 hours back again. So the next day was taken up by his being exhausted and cranky.
Naturally, that was the day our nephew stepped on Scott's lost keys while diving off the dock, and kindly retrieved them.
We drove to Chicago for a couple days when Bren was 6, to visit my grandmother. We 'camped out' on her living room floor, naively looking forward to seeing the Art Institute, the Science & Industry Museum, the Shedd Aquarium, the Field Museum, and the Adler Planetarium (the last two were closed for some reason, I don't remember why).
Unfortunately, I can't count that as a vacation. Just as we started the trip, Bren entered his exciting 'Rules Don't Apply To Me' stage, and evidently the Rules included the ones about not hitting, biting, screaming, throwing things, or tearing things apart. So the entire trip involved hurriedly and forcibly dragging our miniature Berserker through museums/parks/stores while every security guard in the place followed us hissing 'Don't Touch!! Don't Touch!!' (loudly, so as to be heard above the shrieking) whenever we strayed close enough to a display to actually see it. We also took a boat tour past Navy Pier, but the only thing I remember about that is struggling with the temptation to just let the kid fling himself over the side and pretend I didn't notice.
Less 'vacation' than 'parental trial by fire'.**
We once went to the Wisconsin Dells with our darling boy, off-season. He was 7 or so then, and something more approximating a Human Being. Everything was closed except for one PuttPutt Golf course, a horse-drawn cart tour, the Ducks, and (Best Of All) the tackily-yet-fabulously fascinating House On The Rock. Even those were closing that week, but we got in under the wire. We spent a day at HOTR (it takes most of a day to really appreciate it), a half day in the Dells, with the night at a motel with a small indoor water park where the slides were under construction, but there were some floating 'islands' and a basketball hoop in the pool. The kid was thrilled, we were happy... good times. But not a lot of vacation time for 20 years of marriage and parenthood.***
But that is the sum and total of vacations that Scott & I have had in our nearly 30 years together. My birthday is coming up, as is our 20th wedding anniversary, and the future is looking a bit more scary and unknowable than it did a year ago. So we decided that we would go to the Black Hills (Bren has already been there with my parents, so he won't feel too deprived), have a week of relatively cheap fun, then get home in time for me to zoom off for the Infinite Boundaries retreat.
Yup. A week of vacation for us both, and then an extra few days of a sort of spiritual/emotional/vacation thing for me alone. Not easy, probably, but something I needed, and I felt really lucky to have the opportunity.
It's been a long time since we've had something fun to look forward to. We were pretty excited.
Until this weekend, when the car imploded.
Just the sound of it started a leak in our bank account. I have a sneaking suspicion that it's going to be a choice: either car or trips, but not both. And we are practical people at heart, so of course the car is going to win.
Drat.
*Yes, I HAVE learned to never save myself the trouble of dragging my keys around on vacation. Thanks for asking.
**This stage was blessedly short, curtailed by our agreeing that we would all stop living by Rules until Bren decided to reinstate them. This quickly led to his realization that it was rules that make grown up people cook meals and go to the park and share with smaller, weaker persons. Rules started looking pretty good, after all...
***Do not feel sorry for the kid. He is an Only Grandchild on my side, and so he has seen a great deal of the U.S. and Europe with his doting grandparents. We feel very lucky, both for the wonderful opportunities those trips gave Bren and for the bit of Peace and Quiet it gave us once in a while.****
****To be fair to Bren, the Chicago Experience was an anomaly, which is why we were so ill-prepared for it. He's been a challenging kid in some ways, as most children are, but we feel we've been very lucky, kid-wise. He's mostly been a joy to have around, and a great traveling companion. We don't plan on bringing him back for a refund any time soon.
Well, okay, not exactly true.
We spent one night at a B&B in Stockholm, Wisconsin for our fifth anniversary, which was nice. We saw an eagle, strolled through a couple art/craft/'antique' stores, lusted after a few really lovely Amish quilts, and ate some very nice ice cream. We highly recommend Stockholm, WI to anyone interested, although the quilts are no longer there.
For our 'honeymoon' we went to Madison overnight to visit a friend who turned out to be too busy to spend time with us, so we shared one night in the guest-room twin bed (I was 5 months pregnant and still had all-day morning sickness, so you can imagine how thrilling that was) and then we high-tailed it back home, with a brief stopover at House On the Rock (see below). Whee.
We once spent a few days at Rose Lake with Scott's relatives. Bren loved being with his cousins, which is great. But it was very hot, the relatives understandably wanted to spend all their time with their coolers and the beautiful lake, and I'm allergic to the sun (really - I get hives). So I was stuck alone inside the small 2-room (tv-less, a/c-less) cabin-without-a-view with not much to do except read, sweep sand off the floor, and frown at crossword puzzles. Scott would have kept me company at least part of the time, but early on he jumped into the lake with his keys in his pocket... well, they were in his pocket when he went in. Naturally he had to make the 6 hour drive back home in a borrowed car so that he could break into the house and get my keys*, then drive another 6 hours back again. So the next day was taken up by his being exhausted and cranky.
Naturally, that was the day our nephew stepped on Scott's lost keys while diving off the dock, and kindly retrieved them.
We drove to Chicago for a couple days when Bren was 6, to visit my grandmother. We 'camped out' on her living room floor, naively looking forward to seeing the Art Institute, the Science & Industry Museum, the Shedd Aquarium, the Field Museum, and the Adler Planetarium (the last two were closed for some reason, I don't remember why).
Unfortunately, I can't count that as a vacation. Just as we started the trip, Bren entered his exciting 'Rules Don't Apply To Me' stage, and evidently the Rules included the ones about not hitting, biting, screaming, throwing things, or tearing things apart. So the entire trip involved hurriedly and forcibly dragging our miniature Berserker through museums/parks/stores while every security guard in the place followed us hissing 'Don't Touch!! Don't Touch!!' (loudly, so as to be heard above the shrieking) whenever we strayed close enough to a display to actually see it. We also took a boat tour past Navy Pier, but the only thing I remember about that is struggling with the temptation to just let the kid fling himself over the side and pretend I didn't notice.
Less 'vacation' than 'parental trial by fire'.**
We once went to the Wisconsin Dells with our darling boy, off-season. He was 7 or so then, and something more approximating a Human Being. Everything was closed except for one PuttPutt Golf course, a horse-drawn cart tour, the Ducks, and (Best Of All) the tackily-yet-fabulously fascinating House On The Rock. Even those were closing that week, but we got in under the wire. We spent a day at HOTR (it takes most of a day to really appreciate it), a half day in the Dells, with the night at a motel with a small indoor water park where the slides were under construction, but there were some floating 'islands' and a basketball hoop in the pool. The kid was thrilled, we were happy... good times. But not a lot of vacation time for 20 years of marriage and parenthood.***
But that is the sum and total of vacations that Scott & I have had in our nearly 30 years together. My birthday is coming up, as is our 20th wedding anniversary, and the future is looking a bit more scary and unknowable than it did a year ago. So we decided that we would go to the Black Hills (Bren has already been there with my parents, so he won't feel too deprived), have a week of relatively cheap fun, then get home in time for me to zoom off for the Infinite Boundaries retreat.
Yup. A week of vacation for us both, and then an extra few days of a sort of spiritual/emotional/vacation thing for me alone. Not easy, probably, but something I needed, and I felt really lucky to have the opportunity.
It's been a long time since we've had something fun to look forward to. We were pretty excited.
Until this weekend, when the car imploded.
Just the sound of it started a leak in our bank account. I have a sneaking suspicion that it's going to be a choice: either car or trips, but not both. And we are practical people at heart, so of course the car is going to win.
Drat.
*Yes, I HAVE learned to never save myself the trouble of dragging my keys around on vacation. Thanks for asking.
**This stage was blessedly short, curtailed by our agreeing that we would all stop living by Rules until Bren decided to reinstate them. This quickly led to his realization that it was rules that make grown up people cook meals and go to the park and share with smaller, weaker persons. Rules started looking pretty good, after all...
***Do not feel sorry for the kid. He is an Only Grandchild on my side, and so he has seen a great deal of the U.S. and Europe with his doting grandparents. We feel very lucky, both for the wonderful opportunities those trips gave Bren and for the bit of Peace and Quiet it gave us once in a while.****
****To be fair to Bren, the Chicago Experience was an anomaly, which is why we were so ill-prepared for it. He's been a challenging kid in some ways, as most children are, but we feel we've been very lucky, kid-wise. He's mostly been a joy to have around, and a great traveling companion. We don't plan on bringing him back for a refund any time soon.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Brain Drain
I do intend to post something at least semi-interesting here, at some point. I do. I just don't know exactly when my brain fog is going to lift enough to let me have something interesting to say - well, at least something to say about something other than being sick.
It's not that I'm not doing anything else. It's more like everything else I am doing is either unpleasant enough that I don't want to talk about it (gee, anybody want to read a treatise on cleaning incisions? Tax talk, anyone? Anyone...?) or boring enough that there isn't much to say about it (I watched TV last night. And the night before that. And the night before that.)
I do have some thank-yous and interesting things to post in terms of photographs... when my body will let me do some decent photography. I'm hoping that will be soon, but it won't be NOW, which would definitely be my preference.
So I must ask you all to be patient with me (something I am failing at woefully, myself), and wait just a little while longer. In the meantime, if you want to treat yourself to some whinging, feel free to visit me on my other blog, where I am less constrained by taste and tact. After all, I've never managed to shut up completely, not for long!
It's not that I'm not doing anything else. It's more like everything else I am doing is either unpleasant enough that I don't want to talk about it (gee, anybody want to read a treatise on cleaning incisions? Tax talk, anyone? Anyone...?) or boring enough that there isn't much to say about it (I watched TV last night. And the night before that. And the night before that.)
I do have some thank-yous and interesting things to post in terms of photographs... when my body will let me do some decent photography. I'm hoping that will be soon, but it won't be NOW, which would definitely be my preference.
So I must ask you all to be patient with me (something I am failing at woefully, myself), and wait just a little while longer. In the meantime, if you want to treat yourself to some whinging, feel free to visit me on my other blog, where I am less constrained by taste and tact. After all, I've never managed to shut up completely, not for long!
Thursday, September 11, 2008
It's Raining, Raining In My Heart
And everywhere else, too.
That's Drizzle, not Dirt
It's damp and drizzly, grey and grim, and I can't take any decently lighted photos of the quilt. And I didn't sleep well. And I can't go out and walk off my case of the grumpies, because it's raining and because I've had a piece of glass embedded in my foot since yesterday night that doesn't want to surface so that I can get it out. And it hurts. And I don't want to have to pay the cost of having to have *#@#* x-rays and a sliced-open foot (and possibly my first accident-related stitches ever - for nearly 50 years I've avoided getting stitches, except in the process of passing a human being through my body or having cancer excised from it, and I don't want to start the habit now).
And I screwed up that skein of Audacious while setting it, and in order to even attempt to salvage it, I would have to get a microwave oven. Something that, along with a cell phone, I've avoided for decades.**
And, And, AND...
Maybe I should go back to bed.
** Yes, I'm a dinosaur. So what? Children love dinosaurs...
Here's the view from my kitchen.
That's Drizzle, not DirtHere's the view from (behind) my front door.
It's damp and drizzly, grey and grim, and I can't take any decently lighted photos of the quilt. And I didn't sleep well. And I can't go out and walk off my case of the grumpies, because it's raining and because I've had a piece of glass embedded in my foot since yesterday night that doesn't want to surface so that I can get it out. And it hurts. And I don't want to have to pay the cost of having to have *#@#* x-rays and a sliced-open foot (and possibly my first accident-related stitches ever - for nearly 50 years I've avoided getting stitches, except in the process of passing a human being through my body or having cancer excised from it, and I don't want to start the habit now).
And I screwed up that skein of Audacious while setting it, and in order to even attempt to salvage it, I would have to get a microwave oven. Something that, along with a cell phone, I've avoided for decades.**
And, And, AND...
Maybe I should go back to bed.
** Yes, I'm a dinosaur. So what? Children love dinosaurs...
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