now is your chance to point a gun at me

...because I am soooooo loaded!

Notes from my day:

Snag in walking-to-work routine: I push the clock and wind up running out the door with wet hair and no print-out of my lecture notes, thereby making myself almost late for class.
Remedy: it's obvious, but not in character. Give myself more time in the morning. Yeah, sure.

Snag in dealing with an afternoon of chairing university hearings: need lotsa coffee to keep alert.
Remedy: get a large latte before hearings.

Snag in getting large latte before hearings: have no cash on hand.
Remedy: go to UBS ATM and get cash.

Snag in getting cash while in a hurry to get coffee to make it to the hearings on time: I press too many zeros on the ATM machine. I should not have shouted out for the world to hear: hey, I pressed too many zeros on the ATM machine! Tip: no, there seems to be no limit to the thousands you can pick up at the UBS ATM machine.
Remedy: thank God there's overdraft protection.

The day is young, I am on break from hearings and have a full night of house-packing ahead, before tomorrow's movers and the garage sale. Your stealing money from me at this second is the least of my problems. Go ahead, point a gun, take the cash. Just don't pull the trigger. I may implode anyway.

This may turn into a long Oscars-like speech and there’s no one to play the music that would shut me up

How can I not acknowledge someone (Sir Ed) who sacrificed herself and was willing to make do with a lunch from the Polish deli just so she could spend the better part of the day helping me get ready for tomorrow’s garage sale?

You think food from the Polish deli is no big sacrifice? If you think that, you’ve been duped by this post and are indiscriminately jumping on the “food is great” bandwagon. There is nothing sexy about having to swallow this:



(no lettuce, no tomato, no mayo, no flavor)

Sir Ed belongs on my list of saintly types. Can she ever crank out the tags and arrange the junk! Plus she found dishes and appliances that I had never even taken out of their original container. (Want a crock pot from 1977? a set of onion soup bowls? Twenty silver serving spoons? Come to the sale of all sales! Virtually every item is priced at a $1. I’m thinking I may adjust the bike price – no no, Mr. B and I are still on good terms, it’s his younger cousin that’s up for grabs – but the rest, well, it’s all about recycling goods and moving them onto someone else’s property.)

My neighbors are there as well – all six of you saintly types who helped me make the Katrina donation by lifting and U-hauling boxes and boxes of kitchen stuff, and of course, roomfuls of the heaviest pieces of furniture in the world. (There’s a reason so many of the pieces were in the basement – they sunk there and no one has had the strength to heave them out.)

The Bozzo-Lees are there in saint-dom too, though I have to say that the late-night martini wiped me out. I fell asleep somewhere between the front door and the bed.

If there was one tiny wrinkle in yesterday's March of the Saintly Types, it had to do with Tonya. She called with such sadness in her voice that it near-broke my heart. Why haven’t I turned to her in my hours of need, she wanted to know (as if she hasn’t boosted my spirits endlessly with messages and calls on an hourly basis for three months running now). She tells me she is a terrific packer, labeler, mover, etc. But trying to find a window in her busy social schedule is like attempting to book Dave Matthews for your private little shindig. So, since she is all about binding legal documents, witness, please, that I AM BOOKING HER SERVICES FOR MY MOVE TO THE RETIREMENT VILLAGE ON SEPTMEBER 1st, 2045. Signed on this day, September 8th, 2005 by Nina L. Camic.