Need to buy a sign
Today, I learned that my home has a civic address. However, until I pony up $45 plus applicable taxes, followed by a session with a sledge hammer, it will remain unknown to anyone else. So, I called the sign shop, but no order will be filled until after the holidays.
Small detail: the whole point of the civic number is to let emergency services find a given address. Let’s think of this as an odd kind of insurance.
Son #3 is back in the world of socialized medicine. His plasticized ID arrived in the afternoon mail. Again, an odd kind of insurance.
My second loaf of mechanically prepared bread is out of the box; the quality is unchanged. There’s reassurance in this. By following simple directions, a staple of our diet will be available with a few hours notice. No need to race off to the supermarket when the snow alarm goes off. Next up, learn to make stormchips. And I have to share a product insult I came across: P****gles aren’t chips; they’re packing material squatting in abandoned tennis ball cans. But I am off topic, again.
I think I won something on FB this afternoon.
Watched the garbage truck knock over one of my bins (with the other one) this morning. The operator actually got out of the truck and picked up; left me speechless. The dog? Not so much…
What else happened today? Nothing much. Still have a few hours left, but the risk of anything interesting is very low. Safe lifestyle.
