The Eyes Are Not What They Seem
Problems don't come in ones; problems come in multiples.
The
first occurred around 11:00am today with the apartment leasing manager
notifying me of my rent money for May not arriving. Of all the rent
payments that are late, it's the one with the $25 increase per year.
Therefore, a 7% late fee was tacked on to a check I made out on
Saturday, April 28. What the fuck is going on with snail mail? I swear
to fuckin' Allah they really are just a bunch of Newmans
working there. Get off your asses and deliver the mail already. It's
one zip code over, you sloths!
2nd problem: I had to do my weekly grocery shopping
today. It's my last day off before returning to work for the next two
(even though I'm not completely recovered). Conveniently, I stopped off
first at Eckerd to drop off my optometrist's Rx for Alrex,
to which they told me it would only take 1/2 hour before it was ready
to be picked. At least I didn't have to wait a couple of days. So as I
said, I went grocery shopping, and all was well until the bag girl
started interacting with me. Believe me, I'm a kind-hearted person. I
always let pedestrians cross in front of me, even if there is no white
line in the road. But this fine specimen must've arrived to work after
a threefold overdose of lithium. I came oh so close to making a scene
and just playing with her fragile head when she muttered "I'm so
happy," about 3 or 4 times. You know what? Good. I'll make you even
happier by telling your manager you've been popping one too many pills.
Therefore, you'll have time to pop some more.
3rd Problem: This is how I know when there are other forces at work. Maybe the log outside is going to start telling me I should switch to decaf. The jury is still out. But, when I arrived back to Eckerd in a more foul-tempered mood to pick up my prescription, what music was I subjected to? None other than Jackson Browne's "Doctor, My Eyes." Apparently, I'm the butt-end of someone else's joke, to which I'm not aware of.
Alright. Time for me to get back to what I've been doing during my "sick" leave. Helping Agent Cooper solve the puzzle.
3rd Problem: This is how I know when there are other forces at work. Maybe the log outside is going to start telling me I should switch to decaf. The jury is still out. But, when I arrived back to Eckerd in a more foul-tempered mood to pick up my prescription, what music was I subjected to? None other than Jackson Browne's "Doctor, My Eyes." Apparently, I'm the butt-end of someone else's joke, to which I'm not aware of.
Alright. Time for me to get back to what I've been doing during my "sick" leave. Helping Agent Cooper solve the puzzle.
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Comments
The whole thing sucks a lot, especially the Jackson Browne, but man, never mail anything on a Saturday that you want to get somewhere timely or at all. It's my theory that weekend mail is handled by a whole separate crew of dwarves and trolls, really slacker ones. Or, yeah, just a big old weekend group of Newmans. Friday is your friend. Mail things on Friday.