Sunday, June 23, 2019

A mess.

Photo copyright Aji, 2019; all rights reserved.

Yesterday's storm, or part of it, anyway. The weather here is a mess right now. That's not all that's a mess, either.

Ivan is finally here and cutting the hay, arriving only an hour and half late. He was supposed to be here at ten. Then again, he was supposed to be here at four yesterday afternoon, and that was after he was supposed to be here at ten yesterday morning, and that was after he was supposed to be here sometime after four on Friday afternoon. Since it rained briefly last night, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise, but people we are paying taking our time for granted is on my last nerve after this past week. I don't care if you can't do it at the time you originally said because you're overloaded and were overly optimistic about how soon you could get it all done. I do care if you can't be bothered to let us know that.

We're also dealing with more fallout from the plumbing disaster, and that is well past my last nerve and on to me needing to find a creative outlet for revenge. Besides misinstalling, well, everything, but I'm thinking specifically right now of the washer drain and cleanout, they also put the dryer vent far too low to the ground and didn't screen it. So what we didn't know was that, on top of everything else they fucked up in that wall, they left it open to invasion by a colony of mice. And so, when Sherm opened the wall up, guess what happened? Yup. And it's not field mice, either; it's fucking deer mice, the kind that carry hanta virus and bubonic plague, and it's an entire family of the little monsters. So we've been trapping them as fast as we can, but whoever coined the phrase "breeding like rabbits" was an idiot who obviously didn't know jack about mice.

Yeah. Now is not the time for anyone to get crosswise with me. To top it all off, I'm having a new allergic reaction to a supplement (goddammit, granola shops and manufacturers, if you're so into this vegan stuff, you damn well ought to be labeling, in letters more than a millimeter high and on the front of your products, when they have COW in them, because we're both allergic to the beasts). And I didn't know that bovine gelatin capsules were the cause of my additional misery until this morning, when I decided to try to read the teeny, tiny print on the back label, and sure enough, and now that I'm hoarse and rashing out everywhere, I'm really loaded for bear. 

Anyway. So we pay for the cutting today; baling probably tomorrow or Tuesday. If I can convince Wings to hire an exterminator instead of doing it himself (yeah, he's got the masks and all, but I still don't like it), there'll be that, too. We paid off our installment plan for the 2017 taxes on Friday; quarterly taxes are due this coming week for '19 (we paid off '18 in a huge lump because their site and phones were down and we couldn't arrange an installment plan, hence part of this year's enormous cash outlay already, because, yeah, Trump's tax changes screwed us, too). Then there's the medical stuff, and we've paid out in the high three figures for the two of us over the last ten days or so, with more to come, and that doesn't even include the tests they want me to schedule soon (or what they might want out of me because of this newest mass in the front of my throat).

All of this means we've got to make sales. And since I'm too wiped out from the asthma and the allergic reactions and everything else, here's a cut-and-paste of what I posted yesterday: sales here; testimonials here; wishlist (such as it is still) here. Wings will have some new bead pieces possibly today (two are done; four more awaiting final stages), and the belt in a matter of days, probably. Please share them as they drop.

And now, I have to get back to rebleaching surfaces. Again. And maybe pop another pred to deal with the allergic reaction.



All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2019; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.

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