No place like Gnome

[captainsblog]

The usual run of stuff here. Blah blah work blah blah dog blah blah Crazy Cheeto Shit blah blah OH I'm making a plan again!

The scorecard for the four workdays this week is Intensity 3, Relief 1. Beginning with a Rochester court appearance Monday morning that went well (but I had no way of knowing that until I got there) and carrying through a long day there after it, finally ending it with a late no-show-no-call appointment. In my first college job, NSNC wasn't a boy band but a curse of death- No Show No Call was far worse than just plain No Show, and you wouldn't get a chance to do it twice. Neither will this guy. I will be back there today, and if I have time to work him in, I will call him.

----

I had just one court appearance Tuesday (after deftly rescheduling one that was threatening to conflict with it), but the morning was still full of multi-court fun. I recounted the gigglefits of the day at three, thus:

- A state court system that is 30 percent technologically updated and 70 percent firmly stuck in the 1950s. I won a case going on two weeks ago and can't proceed to claim my victory because a two-page piece of paper has to be ink-signed, carried about 200 feet down a hall, isn't, has to be picked up by me, first being lost, sorted for, found, copied, and finally handed to me to deliver the 200 feet where it is not accepted because the newly elected clerk's minion thinks it's a copy, not the original. And when I walk back the 200 feet, the judge is beginning a criminal trial and then, when I come back after aggravations 2 and 3, is at lunch. His whole part. I'll get it. Eventually. (Spoiler alert: I picked up the real piece of paper and walked it the 200 feet yesterday to get it filed and, eventually that afternoon, served. It's all good.)

- A NYC attorney who potentially messed up a bankruptcy hearing of mine because he doesn't understand local procedure, making me wait close to an hour for a five-minute hearing I wouldn't have had to attend if he hadn't last-minuted me with shit both last week and last night. Fortunately, I did not have to beg the court's other judge to come in and hear the case because the sitting judge knows my client; we agreed to his hearing it, and he gave me what I asked for. Eventually.

- Then, heading back to Court The First to birddog the Invisible Order, I saw a guy getting into his car in the perfect-for-me parking space.... who then proceeded to, well, PARK his ass in his seat with me sitting behind him with my blinker on for a good five minutes (reading a magazine, I saw once I finally gave up). I did get another space. Eventually.

It left me with a few hours to get a few things done at the office, but then there were two bits of jaw-dropping news from the outside world:




The well-publicized one was that the Pegulas, owners of both the Bills and Sabres, had fired the president of both teams with a 20-year tenure from mostly the football side, with hints and allegations of #metoo problems being at the heart of it. The personal one came in a text from Eleanor. A longtime friend of ours, who lives very close to the store (in a very nice, large house) sees Eleanor there often when she's working, came up to her and asked for money. A professional, the friend revealed there are professional problems we were totally unaware of; we had suspected some matrimonial problems as well, and this was confirmed and revealed to be far nastier than we would have ever expected. It just served as a reminder of how fragile we all are.

----

Those gobsmacks aside, I did get to spend the entire day Wednesday at my desk. It's remarkable how much work you get done when you're in a place where you can do it. I conquered a stack of bankruptcies-in-waiting that have been trickling in from clients over the past couple of weeks, opened two new collections files, got a long-promised draft done for a new and nice client, and even got in some mid-afternoon cardio before having to go back to meet some other new and nice clients who couldn't make it during regular hours.

Through these days, the dog's been much better. She seemed a little off Monday morning but was back to Usual Self by the time I left on my first day adventure. Yesterday, she was as close to normal as I've seen her- and I headed out for another intense day of In And Out. Court appearance (adjourned because the guy showed up and asked for time to get a lawyer), find and file Invisible Order, file other new case and check on result of trial from last week (nothing yet), sort various things and get them out the door, return downtown for fourth court building of the day, pick up coworker who needed a ride because he just had his eyes checked and drops put in them, commit piracy, balance the trust account, contact clients about what we're doing to....

Wait, what?

You may remember the Sad Story of Shirt.



Those are the five numbers retired by the Mets in their 55-year history (counting Jackie Robinson's, pan-retired by MLB and included though he never played for us). Friends updated the shirt to include the 31 on the far left which ascended to the pantheon last year- and I ordered it and proudly wore it until this happened:



Thanks, dawg! Who knew she hated Tom Seaver?

I tried re-ordering. Not in my size or anything close, and finally, the website is completely down. Well. Driving back from the eye doctor, I remembered- we have a T-SHIRT GUY. I pass it almost every workday getting to the expressway to go downtown. And sometimes his sign says "WE CAN MAKE JUST ONE!" As of today, they have done just that- using the two templates above and with the (uneaten) text of the friends' blogsite on the back, the base cost for JUST ONE was the same as the defunct printer was charging for mass production. I insisted on paying the rush fee just so they'd make some money on the deal- and I told them to hold on to the template in case anybody else wants to get in on this Not For Monetary Gain infringing. I pick it up at 10:30.....

and then, if the weather holds (and no ill reports arrive on the dog), I will display it at Citi Field for the first time tomorrow.

----

More about each of those last two things:

Ebony's been worse today. Not first-day worse- she's ambulatory and able to get outside for her bidness- but she hasn't eaten, has been out multiple times, and she's not herself. I've been up since a little before 7 and she seems a bit perkier now, but I suspect this is going to be How We Live Now until either this passes or she does.

Since it probably won't help her any if I just stay home and stare at her, I am now ticketed to see the Mets tomorrow night. The event was chosen, not on account of their stellar streak of play (they were almost no-hit yesterday and players are dropping like outfield flies with injuries), but because of the bling on offer:



That's Cespedes, this year's model of the garden gnome series. The first 25,000 in the gate get one- which means getting to the gate about three hours before the game starts to be sure of that (and then, their intent is, staying inside for at least two of those hours eating their overpriced food and drinking their overpriced beer). I know several people who will be there, so I'm hoping the wait will go quickly.

As for the exactitudes of the leaving and getting there? Ask the dog- and the clients who haven't gotten back to me about today yet. I'm sure they will. Eventually.

----

All that remains, really, is all the craziness coming from 1600 Pee Ave, which deserves its own entry (or ten). I will end this, though, with this commentary passed on by a friend:



The first line of Snoopy's perpetual novel? "It was a dark and Stormy night."

And the source of that first line from a real, and really bad, actual 19th century novel?

I always wondered where Stephanie Clifford came up with the idea for her stage name;)

Comments

[warriorsavant]

The novel was by Edward Bulwer-Lytton, and there is an annual contest to invent the worst possible opening line imaginable.