Rejected

I think Leon had a good day.

Saturday I do the laundry... and I will say, this was a terrific laundry day.  Aside from that, this has been the crappiest Saturday I've had in a long time. This morning I had to drop something off for Joey at his office early... and when I walked in the hygienest asked me if she could help me, with a concerned look on her face. As it turns out she didn't recognize me and wondered who the hell I was walking through the office and waiting for my own husband to be done with his patient so I could give him his scrubs. I mean, do I look THAT different without makeup on? Apparently so.

Then I got home and saw on my dining table a ticket for an expired inspection sticker. The ticket was written from the parking lot of the community health center where I work, in the most dangerous neighborhood in Boston. That's right, while I was inside the building seeing patients, a police officer took it upon him(or her)self to pass 3 condemned buildings and a small playground that are all frequently populated with loiterers and junkies and whoever else, and stood in our parking lot and wrote me a ticket. Yes, the thing expired 3 weeks ago, yes, that's my fault, but I mean, can't I get a break? The ticket was sent through the mail - he probably didn't want to put it on my windsheild for fear someone would steal it. I won't even comment on how this gross injustice relates to the socialsim that plagues Massachusetts.

So then I took a shower and blew out my hair, put on tons of makeup, since I otherwise frighten people, and went across the street to get the car inspected.

And, it failed. As soon as I pulled up, Jorge, the car inspector, said he could tell it was going to fail because of the way it sounded.  Awesome. Of course I didn't have the updated car registration, because I had previously filed it in my file cabinet. Genius. So then I got back in and rattled home to get it, just so that I could return to get a new sticker with a big R on it. For Rejected.

Its actually better to get the rejection sticker because then at least we have 60 days to fix it, versus getting more tickets. At least that's what the man that I had to pay 29 cash dollars to get it inspected said.

  I guess this is what I get for revelling in how financially savvy we've become, how good we are (or Joey is) with our money and how we're starting to really get a handle on things and be grown-ups.

So now what, do we take it back to the place where we picked it up two weeks ago after spending a fortune? I don't know. I'm sad. Alright then, well, its five o'clock now, time for a drink. Here's to hoping this is the only rejection I get before Match day.