Lost and Found
Happy, happy, happy!
The police found my car. It was abandoned in the town next to mine and it's only missing everything inside it that was personal (CD's, a screwdriver, a fork, my cell phone accessories, etc). Everything else was still there, except the ignition. So here's the crappy part: my insurance company's not paying for it because it's less than what I have for coverage. I pay $65 a month for insurance, someone steals my car, and I have to pay for the damage. What about this is fair?
Then I think of all those people on the Gulf Coast who have nothing and I feel horribly guilty and selfish for whining about having to pay $217.65 to get my car back. (Not to mention labor costs, see there I go again being totally selfish and self-absorbed!) Anyway, I donated so money to the Red Cross at a Tim McGraw concert last week and I'll probably donate some to The Store's Associate to Associate Fund, which gives the money directly to people who work for The Corporation so they can get help.
It is past midnight and Omar is not home from work yet. I needed his help tonight, which sucks. The bank says I am $80 overdrawn. I finally balanced my checkbook tonight, for the first time since May, and my checkbook says I'm $755 overdrawn. I don't get it. That's a pretty big difference and I don't know where I made the mistake. Am I only $80 short or $755 short? Did I forget a deposit somewhere? I must have. But I don't know where. And if I forget it, I probably forgot it like six or seven months ago. I needed Omar's advice on how to proceed, but he was working at Evil Job and is now going to be cranky. Damn it.
Re-read Bridget Jones Diary for the umpteenth time. My novel, which started out as chick-lit, has merged into something else. I don't know whether to be pleased about that or alarmed.
Omar and I went to the florist on Saturday with my mother and picked out flowers for the church, the bridesmaids, the groomsmen and Omar and me. Am I horrible bride for confessing that I don't give a crap about the flowers? I mean, who gives a damn? No one at the church is going to be looking at flowers. Omar's cousin said to just do something simple; she said the only people who will notice the flowers were her mother and mine. My mom didn't think that was funny when I repeated. I love Omar's two cousins from his Mom's side. They're both hilarious.
Better go to bed now. Will call Omar once more before attempting sleep. We haven't seen each other all day. Now I'm cranky. And I have to get up at six thirty.
Three more days to go at the Store.
The police found my car. It was abandoned in the town next to mine and it's only missing everything inside it that was personal (CD's, a screwdriver, a fork, my cell phone accessories, etc). Everything else was still there, except the ignition. So here's the crappy part: my insurance company's not paying for it because it's less than what I have for coverage. I pay $65 a month for insurance, someone steals my car, and I have to pay for the damage. What about this is fair?
Then I think of all those people on the Gulf Coast who have nothing and I feel horribly guilty and selfish for whining about having to pay $217.65 to get my car back. (Not to mention labor costs, see there I go again being totally selfish and self-absorbed!) Anyway, I donated so money to the Red Cross at a Tim McGraw concert last week and I'll probably donate some to The Store's Associate to Associate Fund, which gives the money directly to people who work for The Corporation so they can get help.
It is past midnight and Omar is not home from work yet. I needed his help tonight, which sucks. The bank says I am $80 overdrawn. I finally balanced my checkbook tonight, for the first time since May, and my checkbook says I'm $755 overdrawn. I don't get it. That's a pretty big difference and I don't know where I made the mistake. Am I only $80 short or $755 short? Did I forget a deposit somewhere? I must have. But I don't know where. And if I forget it, I probably forgot it like six or seven months ago. I needed Omar's advice on how to proceed, but he was working at Evil Job and is now going to be cranky. Damn it.
Re-read Bridget Jones Diary for the umpteenth time. My novel, which started out as chick-lit, has merged into something else. I don't know whether to be pleased about that or alarmed.
Omar and I went to the florist on Saturday with my mother and picked out flowers for the church, the bridesmaids, the groomsmen and Omar and me. Am I horrible bride for confessing that I don't give a crap about the flowers? I mean, who gives a damn? No one at the church is going to be looking at flowers. Omar's cousin said to just do something simple; she said the only people who will notice the flowers were her mother and mine. My mom didn't think that was funny when I repeated. I love Omar's two cousins from his Mom's side. They're both hilarious.
Better go to bed now. Will call Omar once more before attempting sleep. We haven't seen each other all day. Now I'm cranky. And I have to get up at six thirty.
Three more days to go at the Store.
posted by Lucy Starr @ 12:03 AM
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