So it seems that Fridays just aren’t my day.
I get home from work about 4:30 pm on Friday.
Clean my pockets of assorted stuff, disarm, etc. take the dog out for a bit of exercise and to do her business.
At 4:43 pm, I get a call from the chick who owns the lawn mowing business. Good news: she is insured…..
Bad news. She hit a rock with the mower and tossed it into the back door. Broke the window…
On a Friday night.
No one around here has a board-up business that will come down on a Friday evening. Who you gonna call?
Yeah, I thought so. Barry’s folks at the White House switchboard were once again less than helpful. I left a message, but he hasn’t called me back, not has anyone else from the government.
Guess who disappointed his lady and didn’t grill her the wonderful t-bone she had been promised…with thin sliced mushrooms sauteed in bacon fat and butter with onions just slightly carmelized…Served with a baked potato with cheese and butter… and fresh green beans? With ice cream for dessert….
Yeah, she didn’t get that, ’cause I had to go back to my business and make the door safe and securable for the evening. Clean up the glass so no one could get hurt, so I didn’t get sued in case some asshole was wandering around with naked feet or something after dark or whatever and I left a hazardous area…. So we decided to support Chick-Fil-A instead since by then it was 7:30 after we had cleaned up the mess and made the door secure and safe. So another 14 hour day. And another disappointing evening for my girlfriend. And more time spent making my business run.
But I didn’t build that. Nope, not me.
Fuck you, Barry.