The aircon service man came when he said he was going to, serviced the units without incident, said the whole system was in excellent shape, charged me less than I was expecting, and left no mess behind him.
After he left, I managed to diagnose and fix the problem with the computer, and was consequently able to diagnose and fix the problem with the wireless network.
Then I rang the council to try to solve the mystery of why the recycling didn't get collected last week and the phone was answered immediately by a person who was not only real but also polite, intelligent and helpful, and who organised for the truck to come by today or tomorrow.
All this and it's not even eleven o'clock yet. There's obviously something dreadfully, dreadfully wrong.
UPDATE: It gets worse; the bin-emptying dudes turned up and emptied the bin, before noon. I've already touched wood, but I might have to burn some sage and lavender oil and have a cleansing ceremony.
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What I'm reading
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James Meek, Nobody Wants To Hear This, London Review of Books, v46 n22, 21
November 2024
Something like this is happening in the Kharkiv of 2024. Vladimi...
1 hour ago
14 comments:
You must have somehow slipped into the Twilight Zone (the old one, not the one with sparkly vampires). Have you been taking cold and flu medication?
Just sometimes things go right, but you have hit the bonanza. Wow.
Yairs, all your shit is raining down over here today :)
We drove half an hour out of town to pick up a load of mushroom compost and the friendly farmer threw an extra scoop in to be lovely.
The trailer's suspension died on the way home. We have borrowed a friend in his lunchbreak, a trailer from someone else and O will spend the rest of the day shovelling compost on the verge of a country road. Then, instead of using our trailer like a giant wheelbarrow, I (with the able assistance of Jethro) will barrow it into the veggies.
However, no-one has anthrax or is in Pakistan :)
Oh noes! (About the compost, I mean, not the anthrax and so on.)
My mum and dad used to love going on houseboat holidays and on one such trip they found themselves moored near a cow paddock, whereupon my ma the avid gardener trundled around filling three or four large green garbage bags with dried cowpats for the garden. They lashed it to the roof rack for the drive home, but somewhere between the Riverland and the Barossa Valley my dad suddenly saw a flash of flying green plastic in the rear-vision mirror. By the time he'd processed this and pulled up from 110 ks, the road behind them was strewn with busted garbage bags and cow shit for about two kilometres. They went back and picked it all up.
Well, I know what's in store for me later today, and I am happy that the countervailing happies are coming your way. I have no doubt many others are also benefiting. Therefore, you need not expect any unpleasant backlash.
WV moidire - yup, c'est tres dire pour moi!
Ooh! happy + happy. Read Before Posting.
Sorry about that.
I know I shouldn't ask, but weren't your parents farmers? Sooooo, they went on holiday and collected cowpats? The ones they had at home weren't enough? (I know there's a reasonable explanation, just that the unreasonable one is more in keeping with a day that runs like... like... whatever runs really really smoothly)
Dr. Cat, it's so obvious, Julia's in charge and the world is in sync.
Now re-arrange that post as if the dear Abbott was in control.
Hot butterscotch sauce, yes.
We left the farm when I was twelve -- and had no cows even when we were still there. But this was later.
Also, my ma was incapable of relaxing for more than about half an hour at a time. Had there been no cowpats to collect, she would have found something else to do that looked like work.
JahTeh, comments crossed there. I think you definitely have a point.
mercury retro is over.
Perhaps you were dream-blogging?
Don't worry, it's just a bit of a universe imbalance - like with Zoe, the shit is raining down here too
Oh Crunsper, that was me *
*w/v
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