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29 Sep 2012 08:47 amThe rain has stopped. The tree is down. The street is fixed. The interruptions have stopped. The big box o yarn was carried in plastic down the mountain through the rain to the post office. Yarn cards are in progress. Yarn is being wound by hand because the electric ball winder needs more attention than I can give it right now. Six more colors of cotton to do and then on to the green color card. More projects lie in wait for my attention. Maybe the yarn will come in so I can finish the two custom hats. That' be nice. Maybe the etsy store will also ship my yarn I bought last week and still haven't seen. I suppose I should check where its coming from in case customs is involved. The soft purples I bought off ebay already arrived. I'm happy about that.
And then the maelstrom happened. In order to fix the sidewalk, a permit is required. According to the boro, I am not the homeowner and cannot sign the paperwork. I'm sure the mortgage company would like to know who's been sending them checks. This was as bad as when the State of New York ruled that my ten year old daughter was not my dependent. That's another story. I was in the shower when the contractor pounded on the door. He called Jennifer and got her out of bed. Then he left for a bit. He's working on a house just around the corner. I got dressed and combed my hair. He came back and explained how frustrating the guy at the boro office was to deal with. I concurred. So there was now a frantic digging for papers to see if I could find some document from the sale of the house almost 20 years ago. Apparently, they needed the parcel number. I went through the papers in the safe. I went through the file cabinet. I have papers on darn near everything except what I needed. I even called State Farm. After the pile on the floor was quite deep, I finally found the folder stuck way back in the filing cabinet pretending it was part of the wood. I had a property tax statement, a transfer of deed, and my driver's license. It would not have needed to be an immediate crisis, except the boro permit guy was leaving on vacation. The sidewalk must be done while the weather holds. It couldn't wait. Dummy here ran out to the borough office with wet hair and now I have a cold coming on. Turned out the only problem was they couldn't spell my husband's name. Got the permit before the guy left for lunch. Sigh of relief.
Instead of getting anything useful done, I now had to wade through a veritable sea of papers. I started with the IRA statements, then 20 year old pay stubs, then 20 year old medical bills, and old insurance riders. All had social security numbers on them. I shredded for a while. It gets old after an hour. Gave up and burned a bunch in a metal bucket. I gave the rest to my parrots to shred. They now have a paper cave which they're very happy with. The guano and shredding will occur and keep them occupied for hours.
I often wonder why I feel like I never accomplish anything.
And then the maelstrom happened. In order to fix the sidewalk, a permit is required. According to the boro, I am not the homeowner and cannot sign the paperwork. I'm sure the mortgage company would like to know who's been sending them checks. This was as bad as when the State of New York ruled that my ten year old daughter was not my dependent. That's another story. I was in the shower when the contractor pounded on the door. He called Jennifer and got her out of bed. Then he left for a bit. He's working on a house just around the corner. I got dressed and combed my hair. He came back and explained how frustrating the guy at the boro office was to deal with. I concurred. So there was now a frantic digging for papers to see if I could find some document from the sale of the house almost 20 years ago. Apparently, they needed the parcel number. I went through the papers in the safe. I went through the file cabinet. I have papers on darn near everything except what I needed. I even called State Farm. After the pile on the floor was quite deep, I finally found the folder stuck way back in the filing cabinet pretending it was part of the wood. I had a property tax statement, a transfer of deed, and my driver's license. It would not have needed to be an immediate crisis, except the boro permit guy was leaving on vacation. The sidewalk must be done while the weather holds. It couldn't wait. Dummy here ran out to the borough office with wet hair and now I have a cold coming on. Turned out the only problem was they couldn't spell my husband's name. Got the permit before the guy left for lunch. Sigh of relief.
Instead of getting anything useful done, I now had to wade through a veritable sea of papers. I started with the IRA statements, then 20 year old pay stubs, then 20 year old medical bills, and old insurance riders. All had social security numbers on them. I shredded for a while. It gets old after an hour. Gave up and burned a bunch in a metal bucket. I gave the rest to my parrots to shred. They now have a paper cave which they're very happy with. The guano and shredding will occur and keep them occupied for hours.
I often wonder why I feel like I never accomplish anything.
