Impossible. From the perspective of 27, I insist that my tits will be eternally firm and perky.
I wouldn’t say there’s zero overlap. It’s one thing if you can’t spell; it’s another thing to send out resumes when you *know *you can’t spell and you don’t bother to run them past a friend who can. It speaks of laziness and sloppiness that I sure as hell wouldn’t like to see in someone who’s going to be taking care of a kid.
Yes, unless they’re a robot. Gaudere strikes again!
So the truck was parked on the high side of the yard, across the driveway. I was going to take it yesterday to run errands, but found out the batteries were too low/fuel too cold to crank it 'til it caught. (It’s diesel, and had been sitting in the cold for several weeks). It’s also a manual, so I’m guessing that I did my usual routine of climb in, clutch down, put it in neutral, turn key. When I decided it wasn’t going anywhere I swore at it and started to get out, slipped on the leftover ice from the storm we had the night before, and scrambled madly to not slide under the damned thing. I must’ve snagged the E-brake release and not known it, and it was either on a flat enough spot or the brakes were iced too, because it didn’t roll. Then, anyway.
Took the little car for errands, came back and hour and a half later to see that my truck had tried to run away from home :eek: So, so, SO not pleased.
Yup, that sucks, especially when you do it to yourself, so you can’t get all indignant at someone else’s bonehead move. Merry Christmas - here’s an insurance claim deductible we hadn’t budgeted for. My sympathies.
Nobody’s fault, but the night before last was a bummer. I was having trouble sleeping anyway. My dear (retired) husband came upstairs about 2 AM. About 2:15 AM his cell phone rings. The heat in our younger daughter’s house was not working. This is the mother of our much doted upon first and only grandchild so of course he went over immediately to address the crisis. (Our son-in-law is an awesome father and fantastic chef, but is not really up to speed on mechanical stuff.)
So around 4 AM el esposo returns from his mission of oil burner repair. I hear him come in the front door, as I am still not sleeping deeply. The dog starts whining, and the aforementioned husband, father and grandfather is going to take the pooch out, but our older daughter says never mind, I’ll take care of it. And falls down a flight of stairs.
All told, I think I got 2 hours of sleep that night.
I don’t really have a Christmas rant - knock on wood, but things are really going well this year. But I am getting really sick of all the people bitching about the cold. Um. It’s Albany. It’s New York. It’s December. What did you expect? Is this some kind of a fucking surprise? Buy a hat and shaddup.
Also I am mad because the beautiful hat my friend made me is about half an inch too big so every time I tilt my head down it tries to fall over my eyes and blind me. Gah!
I layer up with camisole > shirt > sweater > hoodie > wool coat. I wear a scarf (up over my face all the way to my eyes) and gloves (with my hands shoved in my pockets), and on really cold days I’ll even have a hat on under the hood. And you know what? I *still *get fucking cold. And I’m damn well going to bitch about it.
Oh, we get plenty of complaints about the cold in the summer, too. At least when it’s unseasonably cool. Like in 2009, which was the Summer That Was Not a Fucking Summer.
Wisconsin: Two Nice Weeks of Weather a Year… Collectively ™
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Herp derp, it’s 4:15 p.m. on a Friday: my brain, she no worky.
ETA: Modified by the fact that I live somewhere that I’m pretty sure I have had a cup of water or two start freezing after having been left on my bedroom windowsill overnight during the winter as a kid.
