Okay, so the tax stuff was worked out in the end--a combination of software glitches, personnel issues in the accountant's office, people ending up in the hospital, and all that fun stuff--so Mojo can get back to what's REALLY important with her life, which, naturally, involves a great deal of petty complaining.
Sometime today or tomorrow I will be getting my little 3G card device. My Favorite Husband has had one for years, compliments of his work, but I kept holding off on the silly promise that someday I would be getting DSL. After being yanked around and laughed at by the customer "service" folks at Verizon for the last six months, I, Mojo, have finally given up. Mobile phone service is finally here--and has been for the past year or so--so I'm getting one of those wireless broadband phone thingies instead for sixty bucks a month.
Okay, this has been preying on my mind. So I have to come clean.
Back when I lived with my parents once in a while--I'm guessing around college? Yeah, somewhere around there--my Favorite Mother bought these painted four wooden letters that she hung up in the kitchen to spell LOVE. Very sweet. It's the sort of gal she is.
I am in a rather foul mood this morning, so instead of Mojo's usual cheery sunshiney complaints I will be brief and depressing.
As I've probably said before, one of Mojo's new rules of existence states that it's utterly pointless and fruitless to EVER try to do something nice for someone who has lived through the Depression. Meaning the Great One, not the hypothetically scary one now looming before us all. Why, you ask, since you very well know that, despite her grumbling exterior, Mojo really has a heart of gold and is always as nice as pie to everyone, regardless of whether or not they deserve it? Mojo's answer is simple: You Just Can't Win.
Just when Mojo has utterly convinced herself that she is indeed the Goddess people claim they worship on a regular and worshipful basis, something comes along which makes her suspect, just for a nanosecond, that maybe--just PERHAPS--she might not be just as smart as she thinks she is.
For example, I direct the town's library, so I can spend vast amounts of taxpayer money on library books. And library books are a little different from the books you buy at the book store. For starters, if your library keeps the dust jackets on the books (and ours does), you get these clear plastic covers to protect them. We used to cover our own covers--and there's an art to it--but lately Mojo has found a new supplier who covers the covers for us. Which is nice because covering books is kinda dull, tedious work. Granted, you get to play with tape and scissors, but it gets old purty quick.
So yesterday I get a great big box of new books in from the distributor. Which for me is like Christmas, and how many of you can say that about your job? Heh, I thought not, losers. Just another example of Mojo's charmed life while you stumble about in the dregs. But I digress.
So for starters, let me assume my Count Dracula voice once more for the Grande Finale:
"Tree! Tree tiny bitty eggs! Bwah ha ha ha ha!" (Thunder and lightning SFX)
And that appears to be it, for the afternoon after I took this shot she started brooding. Not moving even when I walked by several times. The only time she leaves is if a Certain Person Who Doesn't Know Any Better tries to STARE at her while she pretends to be invisible. Me, I try very hard not to make eye contact and just sort of peripherally notice her as I walk by. She just sits there and doesn't move. We be cool, she and I.
BUT WAIT! The drama has only begun! Since on Friday, I look casually out my window and beheld THIS unsettling tableau: