Prodigal Blogger Returns:
So, something fun is when your phone has no dial tone whenever it rains, and so you call Southwestern Bell on your cell phone, many many times, whenever this happens, which is many, many times over the course of a few months, and they always assure you that someone will be out to take care of it, but no one ever comes out: it just stops raining the next day, and your phone comes back to life. But then it rains for several days in a row, freezing icy rain, which is really just the last straw, so you call again and exhibit the sort of vengeful consumer dissatisfaction you thought only your mother was capable of, and lo and behold, there’s a very nice man on your doorstep within the hour, and it’s all taken care of, no charge, Miss Brown. Damn right no charges, biotches.
In other news: I went home to my parents’ house this weekend, and secured both the pirate love story notebook and several old journals and diaries, which were more entertainment that I’d ever dreamed during these lonesome no-phone-or-internet days.
I also came across a box in my old closet half-full of old high school graduation announcements. I briefly considered sending the remaining ones to the same list of friends and family in the box, just to shake things up a little, but decided instead to pocket the little cards with my full name on them in old gothic script and hand them out as business cards, my phone number and email scrawled at the bottom.
Also: I know Adam already knows of its hidden treasures, but I received the Royal Tenenbaums soundtrack as an early Valentine, and it’s absolutely perfect.