which_chick (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
which_chick) wrote2005-03-24 09:17 pm
which_chick) wrote2005-03-24 09:17 pm
(no subject)
I have mailed off the cookies. Actually, I handed the (securely wrapped) cookies and some money to the employee with a small ziplock containing four cookies. The understanding was that he could have the four cookies in the ziplock bag if he mailed the suspiciously cookie-like box to someone else instead of pretending to mail it and eating all the cookies himself. I'm not sure why I thought this would work, either. Ah, well. If they don't get there, I can always make more.
Today at work we fixed a faucet, fixed a crappy plastic pipe, cleaned out more basement space, and removed a sofa from somewhere it never should have been. I also called the guy we're doing settlement with next week to arrange terms (9% and 15 years) and to ask him to get the lawyer's secretary's head straight on the amount of the check we'll be bringing. He agreed to all of that. I had our office secretary call the lawyer's office and give them the terms of the note (for advance typing-it-up) and get the time of settlement (1 PM). I called the bank (got the right bank in just TWO TRIES!! It's probably the college degrees, helping me with that.) and determined who had the ability to sign checks on the appropriate account (grandma was easiest) and stopped off there after work to make her sign a check. Force was not involved. The Old Rugged Cross was. See, when I got there, Grandma was in the middle of enjoying a concert thing with a lady whose voice was not particularly designed to do what she was making it do. I waited quietly, without fidgeting or making satanic hand gestures, until the concert thing was over and then I met up with grandma in front of all the people at her retirement assisted-living thing. This is important, the me-being-publicly-visible thing, even though I'm not fond of being a showcase item, because having visitors is the currency of status where grandma is.
I didn't do anything much this evening -- finished the Rita Mae Brown foxhunting mystery novel Full Cry. It's not terribly challenging fiction but it has reasonably authentic horse bits in it and I'm quite willing to relax into her prose. Plus the animals talk. Not, y'know, to the people or anything, but they talk to each other. I find this inexplicably charming. I probably should find it twee in the extreme, but I find it charming. Anthropomorphism, thy name is which_chick.
After I get done with this 100%-vintage-porn-free post, I am going to take my for-egg-salad eggs out of the boiling water, watch some Buffy episodes, and swatch (with the smaller, more interesting knitting needles) for the fulled bag project.
Two things you did not need to know:
1. It is currently sixty-two degrees in my house (about seventeen, for our metric friends).
2. I still want chocolate pudding. I think I'm going to make some this weekend.
Today at work we fixed a faucet, fixed a crappy plastic pipe, cleaned out more basement space, and removed a sofa from somewhere it never should have been. I also called the guy we're doing settlement with next week to arrange terms (9% and 15 years) and to ask him to get the lawyer's secretary's head straight on the amount of the check we'll be bringing. He agreed to all of that. I had our office secretary call the lawyer's office and give them the terms of the note (for advance typing-it-up) and get the time of settlement (1 PM). I called the bank (got the right bank in just TWO TRIES!! It's probably the college degrees, helping me with that.) and determined who had the ability to sign checks on the appropriate account (grandma was easiest) and stopped off there after work to make her sign a check. Force was not involved. The Old Rugged Cross was. See, when I got there, Grandma was in the middle of enjoying a concert thing with a lady whose voice was not particularly designed to do what she was making it do. I waited quietly, without fidgeting or making satanic hand gestures, until the concert thing was over and then I met up with grandma in front of all the people at her retirement assisted-living thing. This is important, the me-being-publicly-visible thing, even though I'm not fond of being a showcase item, because having visitors is the currency of status where grandma is.
I didn't do anything much this evening -- finished the Rita Mae Brown foxhunting mystery novel Full Cry. It's not terribly challenging fiction but it has reasonably authentic horse bits in it and I'm quite willing to relax into her prose. Plus the animals talk. Not, y'know, to the people or anything, but they talk to each other. I find this inexplicably charming. I probably should find it twee in the extreme, but I find it charming. Anthropomorphism, thy name is which_chick.
After I get done with this 100%-vintage-porn-free post, I am going to take my for-egg-salad eggs out of the boiling water, watch some Buffy episodes, and swatch (with the smaller, more interesting knitting needles) for the fulled bag project.
Two things you did not need to know:
1. It is currently sixty-two degrees in my house (about seventeen, for our metric friends).
2. I still want chocolate pudding. I think I'm going to make some this weekend.
no subject
no subject
For some reason, cold-n-damp is a persistant, unpleasant weather thing we get in March. Also, it's the end of the season and mostly what I have left in the pile is icky wood that is either from lame-ass generic trees of dubious heating value (they were free, cut down from around one of our apartment buildings) or stuff that needs to dry another season. Either way, it doesn't burn with much enthusiasm, not like properly-seasoned hardwoods.