Budget Player, I’ve done both of those on different occasions. I’d recommend you Google for a template for each, and then you can pick the easier one to accomplish (for your time frame) based on the template details. The templates will also sort of guide you through finding what information you need to document.
I have a mini-rant about consumer services that don’t clean up after themselves. Specifically two: auto repair and dry cleaners. It bugs me that the repair shop gives me my car back with a little plastic tag attached to my key. The tag can’t be ripped of, I have to take it home and cut it with scissors. And after I get my clothes from the dry-cleaner, I discover little paper tags stapled onto the clothing tags with tiny staples that are hard to remove without ripping holes in the tag.
I understand that those things help them do their work efficiently. I’m good with that. But for criminy’s sake, remove them before you hand the product back to the customer. There’s no excuse not to. The auto shop can remove their key tag at the same time they’re removing the paper foot-well and paper seat covers. The dry cleaner can remove the stapled tag when they fold and hang the item on the hanger along with all the super wasteful paper and plastic coverings.
The ongoing saga of my piece of shit computer takes another jag. Brief recap: my computer’s a piece of shit. I’ve had to reload Windows on it so many times in the three and half years that I’ve had it that I’ve lost count. Now, for the second time in those same three and half years my monitor just went tits up. So now I’m wondering if this thing is frying monitors as well as just being a general piece of shit on its own.
I’m also beginning to wonder if my house was built on an old indian burial ground or something. Since I bought the place I’ve had the following die on me: a toaster, most of the light bulb sockets in my kitchen, a washing machine, a mini-fridge, two TeeVees, two monitors, one computer, a PS3, and a partridge in a pear tree when I blew the fucker away with buckshot, goddamnit.
*
EDIT: I’m on this tiny little square flat-screen now that I dug out of the closet; if this one goes I’m back to boat anchors.*
I may have an opportunity sell this hell-hole and finally move out west like I’ve been threatening to do for years. All I need is a little self-motivation and to stop sitting on my ass and make things happen.
Today I got screamed at by two different clients for things that were not my fault. One of them was justifiably upset, because someone on our team made an error, but it still sucked to be screamed at. The other one is just upset about anything and everything, and we don’t know why she hasn’t just left us yet. This was all after a tense conversation with some coworkers about a misunderstanding that that exploded into a bigger situation.
To the owner of the car parked directly beneath my apartment:
It is 12:37 am on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. Many of us need to sleep, so we can be up and moving in less than eight hours.
A breeze blew by your car. Maybe a stray stick touched the hood. Perhaps a small rock rolled by. None of these things is an emergency. And none of these things needs to be announced to the whole neighborhood for 20 minutes straight.
Shut off your fucking car alarm, or I will shut it off for you, using a heavy blunt object.
Fever from strep throat is making me loopy. I read a headline in the newspaper about Army protecting some border or other, and I figured “Army” must the nickname of a guy with a lot of arms.
I was just having a really great time dancing to this band playing outside on the street. This guy started dancing with me, which I was perfectly happy with, until I wasn’t.
But he didn’t seem to take no for an answer, and kept me holding me closer and started getting grabby. Leaving was the only way to get away from him.
I’m pretty pissed off that, somehow, I had to stop dancing because this guy is an asshole.
Extremely minor, but nonetheless irritating, and I chalk it up to living in Kentucky without being a native:
There’s a local country music station (flipping channels as I was driving home from work this morning), and it had this tagline: “XXX.X, where the Second Amendment comes FIRST.”
Was running a little early this morning, so I decided to stop at a gas station before work so I wouldn’t have to worry about that this afternoon (and also, so I could make it to work, because I’m pretty sure the light was about to come on). Took me several tries to find a working pump, so I ended up being 15 minutes late for work. :smack:
Oh, update on the bracelet-picture cousin: since I haven’t actually been ‘friended’ with her for very long, I was unaware that she’s a massive helicopter parent. Yesterday she posted over 30 pictures of her teenage son having some invisible braces fitted. I can’t believe the orthodontist allowed her to hover like that, and I can’t believe the kid didn’t pitch a fit.
So, had a visit with a new doctor today. A kidney specialist. Seems I get to make a choice: continue to take the drug which is preserving what’s left of my impaired vision, and I’m probably looking (heh) at dialysis within a year or so. Or risk going blind, and maybe my kidneys will hang in good enough to avoid dialysis, always assuming I carefully monitor every bite of food I eat forever.
Fuck.
Oh, and I have to go off metformin, too. Which has been doing a stellar job of controlling my diabetes for years but possibly a factor in the kidney disease. At least for that insulin is a reasonably acceptable alternative.
Agree. Stockholm applies to feelings for your captor. What those those helicopter’ed kids feel is resentment, but they hang in there for the room and board and rides to soccer practice and money for college.
The resentments may not surface til decades later…
