I hate it when the clocks fall back an hour. I get hungry earlier. Tired earlier. Everything seems off. It takes me weeks to get back to feeling normal. Can’t we just stop doing it?
Today is election day. I get to vote for my township’s Supervisor. And a bunch of other positions. The committee chair called me last night to see if I would work the polls. At 10:00. Someone apparently dropped out at the last minute. I told him I wanted to work the polls but when I was told they were fine and didn’t need anyone, I booked some meetings and it’s too late to cancel. Oh well. Perhaps I should have kept the day open. Coulda Woulda Shoulda.
Last week I went to my Community Association meeting. There are two women on the board who really want to make everyone pay a 15,000 – 20,000 assessment. Regardless of whether our stone facades are deteriorating and moldy. It’s enough that a few have the issue that they want to fix EVERYONE’S. Can I tell you the thought of paying out 15,000 that will do nothing for my equity… and for no real reason makes me want to puke? AND NO ONE COMES TO THESE MEETINGS! It’s just me and a small handful of people. No one has a clue what’s coming down the pike. I want to scream.
I’d sell but then where would I go? Who would buy a house that may be facing an assessment? Especially when I’d have to say, “Other houses have mold and leaks and….” And apparently there’s a new issue with the fireplaces. I really believe it’s hysteria. Pretty soon we will be hanging people from trees.
Halloween was fun. If you are a Facebook friend you got to see me in my witch’s costume. I really wanted Pookie and me to dress up like Dog the Bounty Hunter and Beth but Pookie found a Green Lantern shirt on sale. He called me excited…”Can I buy you one too?” I couldn’t figure it out. Green Lantern? Shouldn’t I go as Kato? Turns out that’s the Green Hornet. I have no connection to the Green Lantern so I passed. Instead I borrowed a witch hat and raided my closet for a black dress. Done. Easy. Would have preferred wearing acid washed jeans, a blonde wig and fake bosoms… but life goes on.
Last November I volunteered to work as an election judge in Fargo, North Dakota . Somehow, all those positions were already filled, and I was offered alternative work — counting absentee ballots. Do you know how hard it is to determine a real signature from a fake signature? That was NO fun, but I did my civic duty, and I was satisfied.