Don't Let It Snow

So right now the weather forecast for Thanksgiving, and the day before, is still up in the air.  We are supposed to get a big storm.  No one seems sure yet whether it will be a lot of rain and wind, ending with some snow, or whether it will be a ton of snow.

Personally, I never want it to be snow.  I am not a snow fan.  It is pretty once, then it is just a giant pain in the ass.  I don't like shoveling it, I hate having to scrape off the car, and I don't like driving in it.  I don't ski, so there is really nothing enjoyable about it in my book.

It really just drives me nuts that, on the local forecast page on Facebook, people are all excited and saying how much they hope we get tons of snow.

Really?  You want a ton of snow the day before Thanksgiving and into Thanksgiving itself?  Because it is pretty?

To me that reads as, "I like snow and think it would be really pretty to have lots at Thanksgiving!  Also, I don't have to travel at all so I don't give a shit about anyone else."

Why in the world would anyone wish for a major snow storm on two of the busiest travel days?  You want people to be stuck in an airport for the holiday?  That would be a less than stellar Thanksgiving.

You think it would be awesome for there to be a ton of accidents while people try to drive, or walk, to their more local destinations to be with family and friends?  I'm sure all of the paramedics and firemen who would then have to go out on the bad roads appreciate that as well -- especially if they are so busy more people have to get called in to cover.  Or maybe everyone else should just be willing to spend the holiday at home, not with their family, because the snow would be so pretty.

How about all of the highway employees who would have to be out?  Totally cool for them to be out, trying to clear the roads and keep them passable, right?  I'm sure they won't mind missing Thanksgiving with their families because you want it to snow really hard.

Or the poor people who work retail, for corporations that clearly don't give a shit about anything other than the almighty dollar?  (I'm looking at you, K-Mart.  Opening at 6am Thanksgiving morning.  WTF.)  I would be willing to bet that the majority of people who got scheduled to work that day aren't happy about it.  So you want to wish for bad weather to make it even worse to have to go to work that day?  Makes perfect sense!  Let's hope the weather is really bad, then the roads will be bad, and now these poor people can have a longer and more dangerous trip to work.  They really deserve to be punished for trying to keep the job they have!  I'm sure they wouldn't have to worry about being fired if they called in that day.  They already work for a business that cares more about getting people to come buy more shit they don't really need than about the employees spending a holiday with their families.  I'm sure the same corporate overlords would be totally understanding if someone can't make it in because of the weather.

Sorry.  This turned into a rant.  You want to wish for a shit-ton of snow?  Be my guest -- just do it on a different day.

(As a side note:  no one should be shopping on Thanksgiving.  I don't care how great the sale is, or how much you think you need the latest and greatest whatever.  You are part of the problem.  If you keep going shopping on Thanksgiving, then all the stores are going to see is that they can make $$, and then they will open even earlier the next year.  This guy summed it all up really well here.)

The Carrot of Justice

So, I just got one of the strangest phone calls I have ever received.  I'm pretty sure it was a prank on some level -- I'm just not sure if I was the one being pranked, or if someone was messing with the guy who called me.

Around 10:30 this morning I get a phone call. The guy asks for Thomas Anderson.  I tell him he has the wrong number, there is no one here by that name, and we hang up.

Whatever.  Time to get some coffee!

Five minutes later the phone rings again.  Same dude.  Still asking for Thomas Anderson.

I tell him again that he has the wrong number, that he just called a few minutes ago.  This is what ensues...

Guy:  Okay, but before you hang up, is this xxx-xxx-xxxx?

Me:  Yes, that is my phone number.  There is no one here by that name.

Guy: Really?  Huh.  Well, do you know anyone named Thomas Anderson who might have entered your phone number on a website to contact about making a donation?  (Poor guy sounds perplexed.)

Me: No.  I'm really sorry.  The only Thomas Anderson I know of is Keanu Reeves in The Matrix.  I'm sure it is a common name, but I think someone might be messing with you.

Guy:  Any chance this is a new phone number for you?  Have you gotten any other calls for a Thomas Anderson?

Me:  Nope, sorry.  I've had this number for 3 years.  I've gotten lots of debt collection calls for previous people at this number, but not for the name Thomas Anderson.  Usually they are looking for Cyan Gregory or Zeckie Grizzle.

Guy: Zeckie Grizzle?  For real?

Me: Yeah, that's what I thought too.

Guy:  So no one there pledged a donation on the Carrot of Justice website?

Me:  The what?

Guy: I'm affiliated with a charity called The Carrot of Justice.  Someone contacted us from our website, a Thomas Anderson, that they wanted to make a donation and to contact them at this phone number.

Me:  *GoogleGoogleGoogleGoogle*  I've never heard of The Carrot of Justice, and neither has Google.  I just did a search and got no results.

I love Google.  

Guy:  We're real, I promise!  We just don't waste money paying Google to put us in their top search results.

Me: That's a pretty specific name to find.  It should come up before random recipes for carrot juice.

Guy:  Well, we are a small local organization, right here in Colorado...

Me:  Wait, wait, wait.  You're calling from Colorado?

Guy:  Yes.

Me:  You know you're calling New York now, right?

Guy: I am? Huh.  That doesn't seem right. *shuffling papers*

Me: No, it doesn't. There's probably very little chance that anyone from New York has even heard of The Carrot of Justice, much less looked up your website to make a donation.  Also, it's like 10:30 in the morning here, which is what...8:30 in Colorado?  I doubt anyone really wants you calling them at 8:30 in the morning on a Sunday about a donation.

At this point I think we are pretty much done here, so I go to warm up my coffee.  

Guy: *shuffling papers*  Hello, are you still there?  I can't hear you, the lines gotten very static.

Me:  *HOW IS THIS NOT OVER YET*  Yeah, I'm still here.  Just had to get more coffee.

Guy:  Now I hear it.

Me: Now you hear what?

Guy:  That I am really calling someone in New York.  Coffee.  Sounds very different when you say it.

Me:  Okay.  Look, I don't want to waste your time.  I'm not going to give a donation to the Carrot of Justice in Colorado.  

Guy: Oh no, I totally understand!  I wouldn't give me any information over the phone either!

Me: Okay....

Guy:  I just wanted to thank you for all of your help.  You've been really nice to a guy who called the wrong number.

Me: You're welcome.  Not your fault you got bad information.

Guy:  I really appreciate that!  I'm trying to help out a friend who gave me all of these people to call, and I really don't know what I am doing.

Me:  Best of luck with that.  And you might want to wait a little longer before calling people.  Still kind of early to be calling people in Colorado about donations.

Guy:  Good point.  Thanks again!  And they say New Yorkers are all rude. Thanks for proving the stereotype wrong.  Have a good day!

Me:  You too.  Bye!

And here ends the strangest phone call I have ever gotten.  

I honestly do not know if this was a prank phone call on me, or if someone is really messing with a very oddly named charity group in Colorado. Maybe there really is a Thomas Anderson who is very confused about his phone number and messed up the area code or something  wanted to make a donation. (*Edit note: I Googled area codes.  The codes for Colorado are not remotely close to mine, so a typo is not possible.*)   In hindsight, I really wish I had thought to ask what the heck the charity was about.  

So, people of Colorado  -- if you know that this is a real group, let me know please?  And also, you're welcome.  Maybe I really did spare some of you from this guy calling you early on a Sunday morning.

And Thomas Anderson, apparently from somewhere in Colorado, if you really exist -- stop giving out my damn phone number!  

Lucky Number 13

This flag will be coming down immediately.  People are taking it too literally.

I was lucky enough to have the day off today.  My big plans were to sit and relax with my coffee this morning, then go out shopping with my mother later.  Nothing fancy -- she needs decorations for the Moose Lodge, I need to track down candy to try to make candy sushi later this week for a cake.    I call my mother, we make plans, she'll drive and pick me up.  Stores are probably going to be crazy.

Around 11:45 I'm checking out Facebook, drinking coffee.  House is quiet, it's sunny so the lights aren't on. The cats are sleeping or watching the birds -- it's peaceful.

*Ding Dong*

I'm not expecting anyone other than my mother, and it is too early for her to be here.  I can see my front door from where I am on the laptop, and I see the silhouette of a woman in a coat and fancy hat at the door.  My mind immediately screams "Jehovahs!", as they are always nicely dressed when they show up.

Hell no, I'm not opening that door!

I freeze.  No movement will take place.  I shall play possum and hope she goes away.

*knock knock knock*

I duck behind the screen of the laptop, thankful that I wasn't listening to music or playing a game or on any kind of website that makes noise.

*swishhhh*

And something slides under the door, and I see her leave.

Not moving yet, and definitely not opening the door.  She could be lying in wait out there, like a ninja ready to silently pop out and get me.

10 minutes go by....

I creep into my bedroom to look out the window.  They are still there.  Their car is parked directly in front of my house.  Damn!

Grab the phone and creep to the back of my house, just to be sure they don't hear me and realize I am home.  I call my mother:

"Houston, we have a problem.  Jehovahs are encamped in front of my house.  Please delay leave time by at least 15 minutes.  We'll see if this obstacle removes itself."

Eventually their car leaves, about 10 minutes later.

I sneak out onto the front porch -- no sign of them or the car anywhere on the street.  I decide it is probably safe to bring the garbage and recycling cans back up from the street.  I grab the recycling can and make a break for the garage in the back.

No problems, and still no sign of them.  Lulled into a false sense of security, I wander back to the front to grab the garbage can.  Halfway back up the driveway I hear:  "Hello!  Hello Dear!"

I turn around and there it is, the car full of four ladies -- the ladies I have been avoiding.  It's stopped at the bottom of my driveway.  Shit.

I pause to assess the situation, and the driver says something, but I can't really hear it.  All I can make out is the word "library".  Oh fuck me, my cover is now blown.  So I head toward the car and tell them I didn't hear what they said.

Driver:  I said, you work at the library don't you?
Me: Yes I do.
Driver:  I thought I recognized you!
Me: *from the back, walking up my driveway?!  Creepy!*  Yup, you were right!
Driver:  Tell me, did you get the pamphlet that this lady left under your door?
Me: Yes I did.
Driver: Tell me, have you gotten one of these already?  Have other people been through here recently with this pamphlet?

Look familiar, folks?  

This would be the point where I mentally begin kicking myself, as apparently even when I am not at work I can't help but be a helpful source of information to people.  Also, I'm thinking at least one of my neighbors must be less than amused at the constant visits and told one of the ladies that they already had this material.  Probably in a nicer way than I would have.

Me:  Yes, actually.  I got one of those left under my door last week, I believe.
Driver:  Last week?
Me:  Day after Halloween.  I didn't see anyone, but I found it on my porch and it wasn't there the day before.
Driver: Huh.  Someone must have been here already.

And at that point I think I am off the hook.  I'd like to think there is some level of coordination that must have gone wrong, and someone didn't report back that they had tried to save my street already.

I start to back away, and the older lady in the passenger seat chirps up..

Lady: What are those symbols you are wearing on your neck, dear?
Me: *WTF.  Are we not done here?*  My necklaces?
Lady:  Yes, that top one in particular.

These would be the "symbols" being discussed.

Me:  It's a crow.  See?  *And now I have to move back up to the car, and turn it sideways so she can see it is a crow's head.*

Lady:  Oh.  I didn't realize that.  And what's that other one, a turtle?

Me: Yes, it's a turtle.  I like crows and turtles.

Lady:  Oh.  They're...nice.

Me: Thanks! *smile*

Lady: Well, we have to be going now.

Me: Have a nice day!

And as they pulled away I swear I heard her say something about my "symbols" meaning something.

So now I have probably offered proof that I am the Spawn of Satan, and my "symbols" are probably a sign that I am in a cult, or a witch, or the like.  Awesome.  I'm sure that won't make them come back even more to try saving me. Added bonus that it can now be awkward as hell when the patron comes to the library and we both try not to acknowledge her little visit to my house.

And that, friends, is the story of my thirteenth visit by the Jehovah's Witnesses in three years.  

You Think My Blog Is Sexy?

(AKA  Never Look Too Closely at the Info Blogger Provides in the Stats)

WARNING:  DO NOT READ THIS AT WORK, OR WITH SMALL, IMPRESSIONABLE CHILDREN LOOKING OVER YOUR SHOULDER,  OR IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY BAD LANGUAGE, OR DISCUSSIONS OF SEX AND THE INTERNET.  YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.  IF THAT BOTHERS YOU, I ADVISE YOU STOP READING NOW AND GO ELSEWHERE.

When you have a blog on Blogger, like this one, you can get all kinds of cool stats -- things that I would not have the slightest idea how to compile on my own.  

Normally I just look at how many views each post gets.  I still get very excited  that people are actually reading this thing.  I’ve only ever gotten two comments left on my blog, one of which is complete spammy garbage, but I leave it up as it is one of my two precious comments.  The little things amuse and excite me.

When looking at the stats recently, I decided to click on the “Traffic Sources” for my blog.  Never, ever do this unless you are prepared to be amazed and/or horrified by the results!  It will show you the Top Referring URLs, Top Referring Sites, and the Top Search Keywords that brought people to your blog.  It also tells you how many times each of them were used.  Pretty cool.

Facebook and it’s mobile version being #1 for Referring URL and site was no surprise.  I post a link to the blog on Facebook when  I write something new.  I want people to be able to click on it and read my ramblings.  So hurrah for that seeming to work!

Then it got strange.

One of the Top Referring Sites I had never heard of before.  I’m not going to list it here -- you do NOT need the surprise I got when I clicked on the link.  I, naively, judged it on it’s URL and thought it was going to be a website like www.meetup.com -- a legit page that people use for book clubs, writing workshops, coffee groups, etc.  The URL had a similar name.  I thought maybe it was for blogging, that’s why so many people had been referred from the site.  Makes sense, right?

Wrong!

I clicked on the link and was greeted by a big picture of a naked woman with “FREE SEX” written above her head.  OMGWTF!?!

I closed that shit down immediately, no lie.

Then I kind of freaked out and texted someone who actually reads my blog and is internet-savvy to tell him of my discovery.  Because OMG Why?  How? What?

I went to take another look at the stats, thinking maybe some kind of pop-up had hijacked my browser. That is when I noticed the top entry for search terms that had brought people to my blog.

“My husband in bathroom fuck me q…”

Fuck me what? Quickly?  Quietly?  Are you in the bathroom with your husband?  Is your husband in the bathroom and you are hiding somewhere else with another man (or woman)?

I have no idea.  That’s where the keyword search trails off.  4 times that keyword search has brought people to my blog! 4! More people have found my blog searching that particular phrase than have by actually typing in the web address.  I kid you not -- I’ve seen the numbers.

I really can’t understand how or why.  That particular phrase has never been used anywhere on my blog (well, until just now).  I may drop the f-bomb on occasion.  I have written about my bathroom twice: once with a middle-of-the-night toilet repair, and once when I thought my mouthwash might be eating my sink and creating a sinkhole.  I also have never written about the husband that I do not have.  I’m still confused as to how my blog got associated with that phrase.  I’m chalking it up to the marvels of the internet.

I would like to apologize to what I can only imagine are a lot of very disappointed people.  

I’m so sorry.

You got pointed here thinking you were going to find some free sex or erotic stories or the like.  You got my blog instead.  I write about creepy deer, a certain religious group’s unending campaign to try to convert me, people dumpster diving like it is a new sport, and random weirdness that only seems to happen to me (like being accused of stealing my own identity while trying to buy cough syrup).

My apologies.  From the number of hits there are many people who are disappointed out there….

Or else you found my blog by accident the first time, you actually like it, and keep coming back?  I like to think my blog is smart and amusing -- those are sexy qualities in a person.  Maybe, a la Justin Timberlake, my blog is bringing sexy back?

Probably not.

**It has been pointed out to me that this particular post might actually end up getting me more traffic from the websites mentioned above.  I guess we shall see what the stats have to say!

In Which I Apparently Still Need to Be Saved

Let me start by wishing you all a belated Happy Halloween, friends!  Hope you had a good time!

As you may recall, I seem to have gotten myself on the "Must Visit List" of a particular religious group.  If you need a little refresher, you can read about my prior encounter here.  

Halloween is my absolute favorite holiday, hands down.  I decorate inside out and outside.  I buy the good candy -- no raisins or healthy treats here!

Now, my special little street is kind of tucked away, and no one really knows we are here.  Usually my trick-or-treaters are limited to my friends bringing their kids over.   I think a picture will best show you the scenario I am describing.

See the house on the left?  That's my house.  Like a Halloween beacon shining in the night.  On the right? That's the rest of my freaking street.  Not a light on in a single house!  Only the streetlight and the lights from the area down the hill.  I live in Party-Pooper Central.  I still got 3 intrepid kids though -- kids I did not know!  Very exciting for me!

What's a gal to do when she loves Halloween but never really gets any trick-or-treaters?  Throw a party, of course!

So last night I threw a little Halloween soiree.  I had all of my decorations out and lit up.  Good friends and fun times!  Everyone had a good time!  (Well, I'm assuming.  I haven't heard otherwise.)

Turned off the lights and went to bed around 2am, after a little bit of clean-up.  Nothing crazy.  We weren't obnoxiously loud, no one called the cops on us.    The important thing here is the time frame, folks.

I get up about 9am, turn on the coffee, and go outside to check that all of my pumpkins are still there.  (There's a story for that, but I'll save that for another time.)  They are still there, in all of there pumpkin glory...and I find a little something else tucked in my front door:

Join us!  Join us!!!!!!!

Are you kidding me?  Are you you freaking kidding me?!

In the seven, seven, hours since I went to bed the Jehovah's have been back again trying to save me! Apparently my status as the Spawn of Satan still holds with them, and they must now think I am trying to bring my friends over to The Dark Side as well.  

I've been told they are out in full force today, as a friend saw a group moving through her neighborhood early this morning.  

I'm not convinced this was a normal proselytizing mission though.  For starters, they didn't even ring the doorbell.  Maybe it was the same two guys I had words with last time and they decided not to chat this go-round.  I suppose they could have been scared of my decorations and didn't dare to see who lived inside. Due to the stealthiness of it all, I think it might have been my neighbor.  She might have pulled a covert op after last night's party.

Can't a gal just have a party without it being a sign that she is damned and dragging her friends along for the ride?

Let me leave you with this little piece of internet awesome:

In Which Buying Cough Syrup Made My Day

I have a little cough.  Nothing terrible, just annoying, and I don't want it to get worse.  It's almost Halloween which is my favorite holiday, I'm on vacation, and I refuse to get sick!  Not happening.

So I popped out to a quick-mart place to get some cough syrup and ginger ale.   I'm not going to name the place or the guy who helped me as he was just doing his job.  I don't want to get anyone in trouble.

Should be a simple and easy transaction, right?  Nope.

He asks for proof of ID to buy the cough syrup.  WTF.  Seriously?  He said it was a new law.  When did this start? Apparently it has been around for a while, and I just don't buy cough syrup often enough to have known about it.

I give the guy my license.  Seems strange to me, but I want my cough syrup and I'm not going to hassle a guy for doing his job.

He looks at my license, looks at me, looks at my license again.  And then...

Guy:  No, no, no!  I do not want this ID.  I want your ID.  You are the one buying the medicine.

Me: I know.  That is my ID.  I just drove here, that's my car, and that's my driver's license.

Guy: No.  This ID is wrong.  This must be your older sister or your Mom.  I need ID for you.  You have to be at least 18 for medicine.

I laugh, thinking he's just being a funny guy and making jokes since it seems slow.  He's an older guy, maybe he's just bored and feeling a little silly today.  Maybe he just flirts with all the ladies that come in.

Guy:  This isn't funny.  I need your ID.

Me: *In my head I was like, "Say what?  OMG he is being serious!"*  Um, that is my ID.  I don't know what else I can show you to prove it.  Credit card?

Guy: No.  No credit card.  I need proof this is you.  You don't look old enough to buy beer, certainly this is not your ID.

Me: Well, then can I just get the ginger ale and have my license back please?

Guy: I don't know.  You might use the fake ID somewhere else.

Me: It. Is. Not. A. Fake. ID.  Give me back my license!

Guy:  Prove it is yours, and I will give you the license and your medicine.  If not, I will call the cops.

WTF!!!!

People, it is a good thing that I rarely clean out my purse, and I have not gone through my wallet in, as it turns out, forever.

I start whipping things out on the counter to try to prove my ID.

Pay stub.  He says it might not be mine.
Credit card. Nope.
Checkbook.  Might not be mine.

What the heck dude, do you think I mugged someone to come buy cough syrup?

Old ID card from Brockport that I still, somehow, had in my wallet.  This gives him pause.

Library staff ID.

Guy: Oh, you work at the library!  This is a good place!  Here, here, take your things!  I will give you all of your things and the medicine!  *smiling*

Me:  Thanks?  *And I paid him, before he changed his mind*

Guy: You're welcome, you're welcome!  (He's acting like we are best buddies at this point.)

Me:  We're cool?  It's okay if I leave?

Guy:  Oh yes, yes.  But you should know, that is a very bad picture of you on the ID.  Makes you look old.  You look like a kid in person.

Me:  Thank you!  Honestly, that is the nicest thing I have heard all day.  You have a very nice day, Sir!  (And I meant it.)

Guy:  You too, my friend!

In short:
--got harassed
--almost had to talk to the cops about stealing my own identity?
--the library is a magical place
--got my cough syrup and ginger ale
--apparently made a new best friend

And also decided there is no way in the world I am ever going there to buy alcohol.  If it took that much to convince him I am old enough for cough syrup I would probably have to leave a blood sample for anything else.

The Chronology of a Monday

I don't know about you, but lately my Mondays seem to really stink.  Anything and everything that could go wrong always seems to happen on a Monday.  Maybe it's just me.  Maybe you have awesome Mondays and think they are the best day of the week.

Today was not a good day.  Everyone thinks that when you work in a library it must be such a nice, quiet place where nothing ever happens and you sit and read books all day long.  That is certainly not the reality of the library I work in, or any other public library I have visited.  

So why don't we all discuss how crap-tastic our Monday was?  I'll go first.  It can be like group therapy or something.  (I have no idea if it will be like group therapy, having never been to group therapy, but people venting their frustrations should be a good thing, right?)  And hey -- if you managed to have a fantastic Monday, feel free to share that, too!  It would be nice to know that someone had a good day.

Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

1) Immediately upon opening the doors at work this morning the first problem was presented.  Literally less than a minute after opening, the very first patron  through the door tells us that the police had just been in the parking lot, asking if anyone had heard  gun shots.  They said no, and the patrol car took off.  This is worrisome because:

     a) There could be a gun-toting loony shooting outside.

     b) Should we even be open, giving them a very public place to hide and/or several targets in one place?

     c) I don't live that far from work.  My neighborhood is already a hot mess.  I do not need to worry about being shot.  I am rather fond of being free of bullet holes, and I would very much like to stay that way.

2) Next patron tells us that there is a tornado watch until 5pm.  WTF.  We haven't even been open for 10 minutes yet.  Could we possibly slow down the cheerful tidings a bit?

3) Coworker finds this thing in the staff area.  We have had enough weird-ass bug problems that we literally have a bug jar to trap them in.  This thing was too big to even fit in the bug jar.  I'm thinking it is the biggest black cricket I have ever seen -- like the original, primordial cricket.  I took it outside and released it back into nature.  Whatever it is, I do not want it pissed at me.

So hoping it is really a cricket

4) Patron returns a bunch of wet books and dvds, covered with what can only be described as clear slime.  She says she doesn't know how they got like that.  I point out to her that her entire bag is soaking wet and covered in goo.  She says, "Yeah.  Sorry," and throws the goo-bag back into her baby stroller with the baby and leaves.  Now I get to deal with a bunch of goo-covered items, and the desk has a puddle of slime.  Awesome.

5)  The computers start acting up, being more temperamental than usual.  I watch mine do a slow crash, as everything on the screen very slowly disappears from top to bottom to reveal a completely blank desktop.  A coworker whom had just been logged in is now being told her password is incorrect.  Multiple tries before it will successfully let her back in.  The rate this day is going, I think the computers might be becoming self-aware.  It will not surprise me if Agent Smith or a Terminator walks through the door.

6) Sanity break for lunch, wherein I flee the building and keep telling myself, "The day is almost over.  The day is almost over.  Just a few more hours."

7) Within 15 minutes of returning from lunch I am confronted by an older gentleman who has decided that it is a perfectly good idea to partially disrobe and adjust his clothing in the middle of the library, right in front of the book return.  Seriously?  There is a men's room not more than 50 feet from where you are standing. But no, of course it is a much better idea to handle your business in the middle of the floor, with all kinds of patrons and children around.   I mean he had his belt undone, pants unzipped and was adjusting himself and tucking his shirt back in.   W.T.F.  I'll just put that in the Things I Never Wanted to See category, and try to erase the memory of your boxers from my brain.  I may need a drink later.

8) It decides to rain.  Hard.  Like get really black outside and rain so hard the parking lot looks like a lake for a little bit.  Soaking wet patrons, soaking wet items being returned, and the entire library starts to smell like a giant wet dog.  Imagine what a fun place that is to be.

9) On top of all of this, our security company was in doing work on our system for the majority of the day.  We had no idea they were coming.  They tried to stay out of the way, and actually did a pretty good job.  I really didn't mind their presence at all until pieces of ceiling tile rained down upon my head while I was at the circulation desk.  The only place in the entire building where the ceiling tile crumbles and pieces fall, and it is over my head?  I have obviously done something to piss off a higher power.  

10) Just when I think I am nearing my escape, I get to stay at work for an extra hour.  I can only blame myself for this one.  Due to a scheduling problem they had to shift staff around, and I did kind of volunteer my staying as a solution to cover a hole in the schedule.  Obviously, I am a glutton for punishment.  Or crazy.  Maybe both.  I had hit that point where you think to yourself, "Screw it.  What else can possibly happen?"  Definitely time to make more coffee.

I eventually made my escape, without further incidents.  I got home, thinking I had reached a blissfully peaceful place.  I should have known the day was not done with me yet.

11) Cat drama.  One of the neighborhood feral cats whom I call Mama, as she had kittens last year, came to pay a visit this evening.  Normally this is not a problem.  She hangs out in the backyard all of the time, eyeballing the bird feeder, or just sleeping in the shade.  I leave water out for her in the summer when it is super hot, or when it hasn't rained in a long time.  My two cats could not be less interested in her.  Jazz-kitty in particular has watched her countless times from the window, never once puffing up or making a peep.  Usually she acts more like she wants to make a new friend.  

Jazz-kitty being awesome

Tonight, apparently, a line was crossed.  As I am typing this, relaxing and being grateful that the day is over, I hear this weird little mewling/growling noise.  Wiz is passed out asleep by my feet.  Now I'm thinking Jazz-kitty has managed to get stuck somewhere, or hurt herself.  Nope.  I find her on the back porch, puffed up, making weird little noises and backing away from the screen door.  There on the other side of the door, standing on her back feet, front paws and her little nose pressed against the screen, is Mama Cat peeking into the house.  Jazz flees the scene as soon as I get to the back porch.  She has never met another cat (beside Wiz) and has zero clue what to do.  She obviously will not be a great defender if I need her.  Mama Cat goes down the back stairs, sits in the driveway, and just stares at the house.  

Well, shit.  

I can't let her in.  I don't think she has ever been to the vet, so she could have who knows what wrong with her that I don't want my cats to get.  She can't be thirsty, as the rain very nicely filled up the bowl I had left outside for her.  She doesn't appear to be hurt.  So I give her a bowl of dry food, and she goes to town munching away.  Poor thing!  Who knows how long it has been since she last ate.  

Jazz-kitty reappears, apparently realizing that her food had been given away to an interloper.  I expect her to start spazzing out again, getting all defensive.  Nope. She just jumps up in the window, lays down, and watches Mama Cat eating in the driveway.  She doesn't puff up, doesn't make a peep.  So apparently everybody is cool as long as Mama Cat doesn't come near the door to the house.  

Hopefully this is the end of my excitement for they day.  I know it isn't really, as Jazz-kitty will now be running from window to window for the rest of the night, investigating any shadow or sound outside.  If that is all the drama that is left for today, I will be happy.

So how was your Monday?