Don’t B#, don’t Bb, just B lated

(Before-we-begin-let's-bitch: why don't any of my usual font sets contain the sharp, flat and natural characters? Anyone know a character set that contains them? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?)

Being away got me behind in the birthday department, so I'll try to catch that up now.

To the lovely and dear soul that is katesti: I brought Dakota Blonde's Something Simple with me as a way to remember your special day in the midst of all my travels. (It wound up second in the CD rotation after this frabjous new CD by Alison Krauss and Robert Plant, which you should treat yourself to unless somebody gets there with it first.)  I hope your Saturday was full of love and family and as many delicious calories as I was subjected to over the weekend.

To the sweetness and sensitivity of bluevicksen11: I wound up taking the Thruway all the way home, and my drive on your birthday went past both your new haunts and old just south of Albany (not that I knew where, exactly, the hell they were); but I still broadcast good thoughts that hopefully came in better than the dying moments of the Bills game.

And to get ahead just this once: tybalt_quin's special day comes up this weekend. Your words and thoughts are always welcome sights, usually in my early morning as it's becoming your afternoon. I wish you happiness surrounded by all the family and friends who are such meaningful parts of your life.

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The three-day pileup is mostly cleared, but another three-day backlog of mail is soon to arrive. Speaking of mail, once that's sorted out, I plan to put on mail- as in the chain variety- and, with my sharpest sword, head to an afternoon of commercial dragon-slaying.

One of my puttering tasks yesterday was to get the annoying sensor replaced so my garage door would work. I called, he came, he conquered in remarkably little time. For one brief, shining moment, the thing worked.  Then he got cute. "Hmmm," he said, inspecting the door itself and the cable-spring assembly which supports and moves it, "that door's pretty old, and someday one of those springs is just gonna go on ya."

The words were barely out of his mouth when, as if to demonstrate, he disengaged the opener, slammed the door down manually- and destroyed one of the very cables in question.

Nobody was hurt, but Jesus on a Popsicle what was he thinking?!?  Now I have the opposite of what I had 24 hours ago: a perfectly functioning sensor monitoring a door which, now, neither will rise nor fall because without the cables, nobody short of Superman is gonna lift it.

Needless to say, I haven't paid for the repair they did complete.  And if Mister Sulu is still offering swordsmanship lessons, I may sign up.

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There's also the possibility of a double homicide in my future. Quadruple, if you count all three of the Pep Boys.

I returned my flat tire, pronounced "beyond repair" by the Pepinistas who replaced it, to the store where I bought it barely a month ago. Surprise, surprise- the only hick in Hicksville turned out to be me. I got charged full price on a replacement where, according to the original seller, the repair would have been no problem.

So you better slip out the back, Jack,
Look over your sho', Moe,
There's a boot in your fanny, Manny,
And it's gonna be mine....