This is the only picture I took yesterday, of me and one of the many millennials at work, during our first-thing-Monday-morning meeting. Which, who decides to have that?
Me taking just one picture in a day is a clear indicator of what a SUCK-ASS BUSY day it was, although I got to proof a deck, and I know “proof a deck” means a whole lot to you, but trust me, I love to proof a deck. I just do.
A deck is usually a Power Point presentation, honey, and at my work it’s to sum up for a client what we’ve been up to or to entice them to try our new ideas. Also, if you are someone who presents things at work, can you do me a favor?
Can you NOT READ US THE POWER POINT PRESENTATION? We’ve been reading since we’re 5. We’re good.
SUM IT UP. Reiterate it using your own words. Give us the main points. But OH MY GOD don’t read it to us like we’re in nursery school.
I did take 20 minutes out of my day to scream over to the post office and get my MONEY CASH MONEY, because here’s what happened.
After those dogs attacked Iris, the Animal Control people went to my neighbors’ house to tell them what happened, to allegedly give them my contact info, and to warn them that if the dogs get loose one more time they’ll be taken away.
I never heard from them, so I sent them a letter that included copies of the vet bills. Later in the week I got an announcement that I had certified mail. So I signed that little salmon-colored slip the post office gives you and waited for them to re-deliver it.
I just spent the longest time trying to find an image of a salmon in a slip. Out of all the ridik things you can find online, a salmon wearing a slip is not one of them. I saw lots of pictures of sexy women in pinkish undergarments, though.
Anyway, I waited all week and that damn letter never came. Finally I called the post office, and they said, “Oh, it’s probably at the whoooo de blooo blooo post office, waiting for you. Want me to call and see?”
So they CALLED and I was TOLD it was there, so I drove there, and?
It wasn’t there.
“Oh, your mail carrier probably has it.”
So I waited, like they told me to, came back another day, got THE WRONG CERTIFIED LETTER (some other stupid place had sent me one), went home and there in the mailbox was the right letter.
This is fascinating, June, keep going.
The point is, the first letter from the neighbors said Animal Control hadn’t given them my contact info, but here’s a money order for $86, which was the amount of Iris’s follow-up vet bill. The letter said they were headed to the emergency vet to pay that bill.
Except I’d already paid it. You can’t get your pet outta hock at the emergency vet without paying the whole thing up front. I’d had to borrow the whole shebang from old moneybags Ned. And nothing’s more comfortable than borrowing $2,000 from your old boyfriend when you’re out dating new people.
You’ll be delighted to hear there was another salmon-colored slip [no, seriously, not one image of a fish in a slip at all, anywhere, on the internet. We’ve finally discovered the one thing that’s not online] waiting for me THIS Saturday, and both Saturdays that I’ve gotten these notices I’ve been out on dates, and hello, trampy.
THIS time I did not sign for the goddamn thing, but rather took my salmon in a slip and went to the post office myself, and there was another money order or cashier’s check or whatever (I’ve already deposited it) from the neighbors saying they went to the emergency vet and realized I’d already paid, sorry for the misunderstanding and hope the cat gets better. Last night I wrote a thank you back to them.
I am officially done taking questions about this particular event. Remember when Ann Landers said the toilet-paper-hanging-the-right-way issue garnered the most letters she ever got in all her years as an advice columnist?
This Iris thing has garnered more Qs. You have no idea how many questions people have about this whole thing, and I keep answering and it seems like as soon as I do, oh look. More questions.
So boom. Iris is good, I got reimbursed, all is well with the world, and yay. I kind of didn’t expect them to pay, and yet somehow I thought it would all work out. I gave Ned a check for most of it on Sunday and now that I’ve deposited that cashier’s check of whatever it was, I can give him the rest.
I just know someone’s over there dying with a question. No! Remember in the Sex and the City movie, when Mr. Big doesn’t come to the wedding, and he tries to run over to Carrie after, and Charlotte says to him, “NO!” Remember that? That’s me right now with your just-one-more-question question.
In the meantime, I’m doing more freelance work. I should make a little sidebar of how much damn credit card debt I have, and show you how I’m paying it off. I read an interesting tip somewhere that said to pay what you can on your card when it’s due, and then the NEXT pay period, make another payment. Somehow this helps with the interest charges. So each pay period I put an extra freelance-y $100 on one card on top of what I’m paying when the payment is due.
I’m so irked that last year at this time I was at zero debt. Well, by last year at this time, Tallulah was dead, so I had this debt then, too. At the beginning of last year, then. Yes, At the beginning of last year, my car was paid off, my cards were all at zero, and Talu showed the first sign that something was wrong on January 1. So.
Oh, hell, I’d better go. Edsel got a bath last night and he feels so soft and lovely. He doesn’t seem to have the same perspective, as he is not speaking to me currently. You’d think of all the dogs in the world, he’d be the most happy about looking dapper. But no.