No new words in a few days, it's been a very bad week at work. Pain-in-the-ass things, like a city inspector dropping by to tell me that the sign I have out front (which has been there for thirteen years) now requires a $60 per month permit, and can only be out there for 60 days, and then it's supposed to be made to vanish, somehow, for 60 days, at which point they want another $120 for the next two months. That sucker weighs a couple hundred pounds, and I NEED IT.
It's a part of legislation they're threatening to put through, which it not bloody likely to happen, but in the meantime we have to seem to be complying, so whaddyagonnado? Probably I'll apply for this one permit, and then I'll never hear about it again. Sure won't be volunteering to pay again.
Similar bullshit legislation around here lately is the registration of all housecats. Yes, that's right. All housecats now are supposed to be registered. Because we have nothing else to worry about, like homeless families and school closures and the freaking waiting lists for important medical procedures.
Anywho. The week was not improved by my customers, lovely people most, who all seem to be on some kind of dissociative medication that inhibits input from the senses - particularly my favourite - the COMMON SENSE.
Tomorrow I'm off, and I would love to feel good about it, but I have a lot of residual stress stuck to me right now. Nothing an irish coffee and some Little People can't fix.
Better news, next time!