Cleaning house

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Tuesday.

It’s Tuesday, and boy am I tired. I’m working (yes, it looks like I’m working hard too, doesn’t it?), and blogging, and wishing for nine o’clock.

Tracey flew in yesterday afternoon, and it was great to see her. I went out to her house for supper with her and Brent, then we went to her friends’ Lynn and Todd’s house for some beverages and to chill for a bit. Bill came out to the house to meet up with us and see Tracey.

On my way out to Tracey’s house, I got lost. I’m usually VERY good at getting someplace again, so long as I’ve been there once before. But this time? Not so much. To be fair, the last time I was there (only once) I didn’t drive, and we went out long after dark.

So I was driving around the subdivision, an hour late, and very, very frustrated. I didn’t want to call her cell # as it would be long distance, so I called the number for her house. It rang and rang and rang. I figured she was screening calls, as it was a secret that she was in town, and didn’t recognize my cell number right off the bat.

Finally, it stopped ringing: “Heh-Looow—“

“Jesus-Christ, where the fuck is your house? I’ve been driving all over your goddamned subdivision for EVER—I don’t even think I’m on the right Jesus STREET!”

“What street are you on?”

Blah-blah Street!”

“Okay, turn left onto Yadda-Yadda street—we’re at the end.”

“Okay…um…This isn't Trace--is it?”

“No dear, this is her mother.”

“Oh. Mrs. W….I’m soooo sorry. Oh my. Um..”

“Oh dear, that’s fine. You’re frustrated! It’s understandable…do you see me? I’ll wait here at the end of the driveway for you…we’re number 34!”

“Oh my. Yes, thank you. You don’t have to do that. Oh dear. I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to curse at you. Oh dear.”

She met me at the driveway laughing. Tracey swears more than I do, and says ‘fuck’ in front of her own mother with great regularity…but I was always brought up not to curse (or even say ‘pissed off’—which is a curse at my house) in front of anyone, especially adults and parents. Mortified, that was me. I continued to apologize profusely…all through dinner. Which was held for almost an HOUR for me to show up. Which wasn’t such a big deal when it was just Tracey and her fiancé and I, but Oh man, did I ever feel bad.

Anyway, dinner was great. Drinks were good. Meeting new people was lovely. But boy was I tired. I bailed at nearly 2 am, and was labelled a quitter for my troubles. *laugh* I think I can live with that.

In other news, I finally got off my arse and called my landlord about my leaky fridge. I called his work and left a message on Sunday afternoon. Yesterday he called me back and said ‘I’ll go get you one tomorrow, can you measure the hole to make sure it fits?’ Today he called me from Sears to say ‘I’ve just bought you a fridge, is it okay if I give them your phone number so you can arrange delivery?’ Speedy Gonzales, he is. I should have done something about it sooner. I just dread having to call and complain about things…I absolutely dread doing it. I also dread the thought of random people trooping in and out of my apartment. Especially if I know they’ll be judging how I keep it. I know that visitors don’t do that, but if you OWNED it, you’d be examining things for wear, and to be sure the carpets were being maintained and such. So I don’t like to call about things. I make do until I can’t make do any longer. Bleh. I suck at basic maintenance things.

I got an oil change today, and had the fluids checked. They didn’t check the brake fluid though, and I think I’m down a bit. I am getting a slight grinding noise, and I know the pads and shoes are good, as we just replaced them in December and June. I figure I’m down on fluids and that’s not lubricating things properly. I’ll check that tomorrow before I take the car in for its annual safety inspection. It only expired at the end of May, so I think it’s time.

Okay....time to work! Must dash! More later--happy Tuesday, Poppets!

4 Comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]



Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home