For hire: guardian angel. Rarely used.
Feb. 5th, 2010 07:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogThat's my version (based closely on the original) of the six-word memoir meme that's been going round. At least today it is, because I've been graced with a week's worth of angelry in just a few hours.
This is one of those Busy Busy But Not Really Doing Anything days. I had to deliver a ton of documents to a downtown Rochester office by 10, file an order in a second office, meet a client on the other side of town at 10:30, and get back downtown by, oh roughly, now. [ETA: "Now" was roughly 1 p.m. when I wrote this section, not whenever it posts.] Because the document tonnage was pretty bad, I took a chance illegally parking right outside the complex of office buildings I worked in for a decade. Right behind two cop cars. Because of that, I left my flashers on, and high-tailed it to the 9th floor of Two State Street without confirming the office address on the lobby board. Bad move. My second guess- the 8th, where I am again now- was the right one, and I shot back down the lift literally 10 seconds before the third cop car, the one with PARKING ENFORCEMENT on the side, started ticketing all the cars in the row I had parked in. And this, after passing through the very occasional speed trap on the road to Main Street from our subdivision, while actually driving the speed limit and with my mobile on headset.
Moments after my second moment of temporary criminal innocence of the day, I experienced my first moment of temporary insanity: I pulled up to a not-yet-expired meter and did my filing, and even a quick bank run, within the 12 minutes left for me by the last guy. Yet that was not the target of my final granting of grace. As I walked briskly back to the car, I reached for my keys, and found none. Not in the inside pockets. Not in the computer bag. Noplace. The car doors were open (something I NEVER do downtown), so I tossed the bag into the back seat and went to see if I'd dropped them around the outside of the car. And THAT was what brought that graceful sight to my eyes: exhaust coming out of my tailpipe.
Yup. I'd left the car running, keys in it and unlocked, for close to a quarter of an hour, across the street from the courthouse processing hundreds of evicted tenants and petty criminals at that very hour. On my actual entry into that court building an hour or so ago, within a few minutes, two different members of that latter group asked me if I was an attorney, and if so a notary, so I could notarize their bail receipts. They were amazed I didn't give them attitude or a bill for it. Yet that's how this stuff works: you get it, and you pass it on.
----
This morning's entry from the What Were They Thinking department: an actual vanity plate seen in Easta-Rach:
Sure gives new meaning to the phrase "oil, lube and filter," dunnit?
----
Finally home, after five more stops after that last section of the entry and a long, but snow-free, drive home. Best of luck to all of you on the I-95 trajectory.
This is one of those Busy Busy But Not Really Doing Anything days. I had to deliver a ton of documents to a downtown Rochester office by 10, file an order in a second office, meet a client on the other side of town at 10:30, and get back downtown by, oh roughly, now. [ETA: "Now" was roughly 1 p.m. when I wrote this section, not whenever it posts.] Because the document tonnage was pretty bad, I took a chance illegally parking right outside the complex of office buildings I worked in for a decade. Right behind two cop cars. Because of that, I left my flashers on, and high-tailed it to the 9th floor of Two State Street without confirming the office address on the lobby board. Bad move. My second guess- the 8th, where I am again now- was the right one, and I shot back down the lift literally 10 seconds before the third cop car, the one with PARKING ENFORCEMENT on the side, started ticketing all the cars in the row I had parked in. And this, after passing through the very occasional speed trap on the road to Main Street from our subdivision, while actually driving the speed limit and with my mobile on headset.
Moments after my second moment of temporary criminal innocence of the day, I experienced my first moment of temporary insanity: I pulled up to a not-yet-expired meter and did my filing, and even a quick bank run, within the 12 minutes left for me by the last guy. Yet that was not the target of my final granting of grace. As I walked briskly back to the car, I reached for my keys, and found none. Not in the inside pockets. Not in the computer bag. Noplace. The car doors were open (something I NEVER do downtown), so I tossed the bag into the back seat and went to see if I'd dropped them around the outside of the car. And THAT was what brought that graceful sight to my eyes: exhaust coming out of my tailpipe.
Yup. I'd left the car running, keys in it and unlocked, for close to a quarter of an hour, across the street from the courthouse processing hundreds of evicted tenants and petty criminals at that very hour. On my actual entry into that court building an hour or so ago, within a few minutes, two different members of that latter group asked me if I was an attorney, and if so a notary, so I could notarize their bail receipts. They were amazed I didn't give them attitude or a bill for it. Yet that's how this stuff works: you get it, and you pass it on.
----
This morning's entry from the What Were They Thinking department: an actual vanity plate seen in Easta-Rach:
Sure gives new meaning to the phrase "oil, lube and filter," dunnit?
----
Finally home, after five more stops after that last section of the entry and a long, but snow-free, drive home. Best of luck to all of you on the I-95 trajectory.
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Date: 2010-02-08 09:58 am (UTC)