My husband’s mom & stepdad are finally moving from the damned near inaccessible place they’ve been living for years, and are moving to a house that is on a real road and everything. This is not the ranty part. This is good news. They had to move, because both emergency services and propane delivery have stated that they are no longer able to make it down the road.
The ranty part is that they are moving next weekend. The one with the below freezing temps and the possible snow. Not this past weekend, with the decent temps and no precipitation. Of course. Murphy, you suck!
Ah, now I’m not sure whether to offer my condolences (since you have a brutal need of a better job) or my congratulations (because that particular guy sounds pretty flaky, and if he was your supervisor or your scheduler it doesn’t sound good).
Or when, like some of my new neighbors, you run your laundry with the laundry room closed tighter than Uncle Scrooge’s fists. That room doesn’t have any ventilation, when the door is closed and any of the machines is running it turns into a sauna. Leaving baskets full of still-unwashed clothing in the middle of that doesn’t help (this is a group of one adult man and three teenaged boys, who also always do their laundry without any regard for the sign up sheet - you can run into their stinky socks at any time while doing your own laundry in your signed-for time).
Because it’s been so long (i.e. last winter) since they’ve had to. The NSA must have gadgets in people’s steering wheels that turns off long-term memory when the car is started.
I’m Albertan, not Minnesotan, but we have the same ailment up here
I swear my eyes and my brain aren’t talking to each other right tonight. There’s a thread in IMHO called ‘Help: remove unwanted toolbar’ and every time I see it as ‘Help: remove unwanted toddler’. There’s one in MPSIMS called ‘Stranger knocked on door, asked for ketchup’ and I keep seeing it as ‘Stranger knocked on door, asked for kvetching’. And in the thread about worst endings for classmates, there’s a tragic story where a guy drowned in a manmade lake, only I read it as ‘drowned in a marmalade lake’.
I think all of mine would actually make better stories, but still.
Suggestion for next time - get the components for and make yourself a flowerpot heater, it will bring up the temp in an average bathroom enough to help keep pets from freezing. In combination with the nukable pet heat beds for the overnight, it can make a difference. I don’t know for the day, smuggle the snakey in to work?
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I had a doctor’s appointment today. It was supposed to be a consultation regarding some sort of growth discovered on the outside of my body during a recent colonoscopy.
After keeping me waiting for about half an hour or so in the exam room, the doc took a quick look and said, “This is really small. We can take care of it right here and now, no need for you to go to the hospital.”
I had about two minutes or less to go from “talking to the doctor” to “holy shit, he’s cutting bits off me in delicate places!”. The needle used to numb the area HURT going in. And the cauterizing hurt, too, because I’m fat and the cauterizing loop touched places that weren’t the bit being cut off that had been numbed. And there wasn’t anyone there to hang on to or anything.
Yeah, minor surgery and all that, but I wasn’t in the least prepared for it, and the whole thing upset me one hell of a lot. It’s been about four and a half hours since then, and I’m still feeling weepy about it all.
OMFG, I’m ready to slap the Random Kid Living in My House! We have another bug infestation - maybe from the stuff the houseguests had in storage, maybe from other stuff, who knows? It happens here in south Georgia. I’ve spent the day scrubbing and spraying - it does no good to do one room at the time, the critters will just migrate to the unsprayed room. So, after I’ve moved things and scrubbed and sprayed and scrubbed again, I go in the kitchen to finish up in there… and there’s pasta and cheese all over the damned counter, floor, and stove. I start trying to get it up, and RKLIMH wanders in, dropping crumbs and cheese from the burrito he’s fixed for himself, and tells me not to worry about it.
I’m not worried about a damned thing, kid, but perhaps you ought to be. I just want my house to be free of vermin. I’m venting here instead of threatening to rehome the little asshole. But if I walk back in the kitchen in five minutes and find food leavings all over the place? There will be words.
I hope some of the words are "Great news! I’ve decided how you’re going to earn the right to stay here! From now on, you’re the one in charge of keeping this home free of vermin infestations.
EmilyG, I’m on your side. For the last two days there has been some sort of truck running a giant compressor outside my office window. It’s sounds like they are doing some sandblasting or something. I cant even keep my earbuds in because people keep wanting to talk to me about their projects. It’s constant and annoying.
When we moved here, we got a new phone number. Almost immediately, we got phone calls from collection agencies looking for some ass clown who used to have the number. I figured they would stop, but they continued. Eventually, it became somewhat too late to get a different number because of the inconvenience of notifying everybody. And so the calls continued. Then they tapered off and stopped. And now they’ve started again at five years and counting. They’re for the same deadbeat motherfucker as before. I hope somebody drives a truck up his ass.
And to the idiot down the street who felt that he was accomplishing something by using a leaf blower when the wind is blowing at 30 mph: you’re a hopeless dumbfuck.
Maybe four years now for me and I still get calls for “Shannon”. Although I finally found out her last name in a very peculiar manner. I went for a drive last weekend. When I gave the guy my phone number at the hotel in another state, he called me “Mr. (name)”. “Huh. Do you have this number associated with a “Shannon”?” “Yes” OK.
But yeah, the previous number I’d had for 6-7 years and still got calls about a deadbeat. Early morning, late at night, wouldn’t have any for 6 months, then WHAM, 5am call.
The NSA must have gadgets in people’s steering wheels that turns off long-term memory when the car is started.