Little MishapsWell, after two separate people asking me yesterday when I was going to get off my duff and write something, I decided it was probably time. Heck, it's only been a month since I last wrote something here. In my defense, I haven't been completely slacking off. The Meade Hall's website has needed re-doing for a while now, and lately I've been pouring a lot of my free time and energy into the new site. Getting away from FrontPage has been a pain, but I think it'll really be worth it when we're done, since all the HallMasters will be able to make updates to the site, and not just those who managed to find a copy of FrontPage. Anyway, in the last day or so, I've had the joy to be privy to a couple little mishaps that have soured me on people. I thought I'd share. When I got home yesterday, I went to check the mail. The first thing I noticed was that the mailbox door was gone. It was lying on the ground, next to the flag. The flag is also broken off? And it's next to it is the support block, that should have been nailed to the center post and the arm. There are some really long nails sticking out of the block... it had to be hit hard. The arm... the arm is off by about thirty degrees, all whacked out of its joint with the main post... The main post has a thick crack running from top to bottom that I really don't remember being there... Geez, the whole mailbox is fucked up!! I call out to our neighbor, and ask him if he saw what happened. "Yeah, the garbage truck came through, and it looked like its brakes didn't work or something and it hit your mailbox. The guy went up to your door but..." he looked sort of bewilderedly at Liz's car, "I guess no one was home." I stomp into the house. Liz looks up at me from the couch, where she's been reading. I ask her about the garbageman knocking on the door, she says she hasn't heard anything. I look at the book she's been reading, the one that I got sucked into when we were opening Christmas presents with her grandparents. I ask if she's sure. Liz gets an irritable look on her face and says of course she's sure, she'd have heard someone knocking on the door. Granted, I've stood five feet from her and chanted her name over and over with no response from her, but I'm easily tuned out. The subject is dropped. I'm going to assume that the garbageman thought he was being clever by just going up to our door and not knocking or anything, just to make sure our neighbor didn't call the police on them. Idiot. Of course, I played nice and called the Sanitation Department instead of the police. Their office is only open from 8AM-4PM (OF COURSE! WHY, WHAT AMAZINGLY CONVIENT HOURS!!), so I left a message. They called me back today to say they're "looking in to it." I want to get this fixed this weekend, so I hope they look quickly. And then, there's this morning. I have to make a left hand turn at this one road where to the right there's a very large, orange construction sign, and to the left there's a curve, so I don't have a great view either. I'mm slowly pulling forward to look around the large construction sign when WHOMP! I'm rear-ended. At about 2 mph. By an old lady. Wearing one of those aqua-blue sweatsuit things. Driving a Buick. Please fucking gag me. So, I pull over and she pulls over. I get out to look at the back of the van. Looks fine. She's got some grey smudges around a lump on her bumper. We decide that it's not worth calling the cops over, and go along our merry way. She trails me for a while, and eventually turns into a hotel parking lot. Fucking tourists. |