It started going downhill when my mom calls me about a letter that she got in the mail. The letter says that her car was identified in a hit and run earlier this week -- in a town 75 miles away that she hasn't been to in the past year, much less the past week. She called the number but only got the voicemail of the man in charge of the hit-and-run division of their police department. The guy that she did talk to her on the phone said that a tag number must've been written down incorrectly, that it happened all the time and not to worry about it. He doesn't know my mother. She's a worrier, and she was already a nervous wreck by the time I talked to her, which it turn just sent my anger through the roof at the idiot who caused all this in the first place.
So I call the number, trying to talk to someone, anyone. And I get transferred four times until I get that same guy's voicemail. So I leave him a long rambly message too about how I live with my mom and on the day of the accident, I know for a fact that the car was in the driveway all day long and it was physically impossible for it to have been involved in a hit and run in another county.
So then the storm hits. The sky is black, trees are coming down, we lose our power at work. I would've paid more attention to it if I hadn't been worried about my mom having a heart attack over the words "issue a warrant for your arrest".
But finally the guy called her back, told her everything was fine, this kind of thing does happen all the time, and that it was ended as of today.
Power was still out, which means that even our phones didn't work. No lights or air conditioning either. So I passed the rest of my day there sitting in a chair, looking out the window.
But even then, I didn't see the bear crap until after I was locking the door...
I was really loving these stormy days...until lightening struck my car. My radio is fried. BUT AT LEAST IT MISSED ME. HAH.
Connie had her baby Friday night. Little Keeson Anthony is finally in the world. It's kind of cool. I have a sense of family that I don't have with any of my biological family, with the exception of my mom and my cats. So. many. cats.
It needs to hurry up and be August 3rd.
I'm crazy for even considering catching up on Bleach.
Okay, so it's a quiet day at work and I'm doing what any normal person would do -- reading about supposedly haunted paintings:
"A disturbing-and apparently haunted-painting entitled Hands Resist Him became famous on Ebay in February 2000. The painting portrayed a little boy standing in front of a window and next to a girl with jointed, doll-like arms."
And I think, 'Wow, sounds like a painting that I'd like'. So I google it, look at it, and then go back to reading about it.
"People continue to report strange events after merely viewing photos of the painting online."
Since when do you have to pay for jalapenos on your nachos? Sure, you always had to ask for them, but now they're actually charging? This is clearly a sign of the apocalypse. It's times like these that I wish I had a bible because I'm sure the word "jalapenos" is in Revelations somewhere.
And if I'm ever on The Price is Right and the prize is a baby grand piano, I'm walking off stage.
This is what lunch in Walmart's cafeteria does to you.
It's Gabby's birthday! She's double-digits today which...makes me feel a little ill. But she's always been healthy, so I'm gonna look forward to another ten years with her. I'm fixing corn for her tonight.
Bo, one of the outside kittens, has disappeared. It happened within the span of a couple of hours when no one was home. Mom and I both kept hoping he'd show up last night, but he never did. Miss Tash and little Sam and Dean have started coming in and out. Starfish actually LICKED HER HEAD. This is major and proves that she hates Ace and Jack just because they're boys, it's just that simple. It is kind of funny that the first thing Sam does when he comes inside is run to the litter box.
Today is the last of my long days this week. And I forgot to bring anything to drink so now I have to chase down an errand boy.