Phrembah (a potato-like mystery) (phrembah) wrote,
Phrembah (a potato-like mystery)
phrembah

  • Mood:

Rain.

It's a weird day.  Raining like hell earlier and every mother's son was out on the streets in it.  I couldn't believe the traffic.

Many months ago I had a girl do me up some landscape plans.  She wasn't just any girl.  She was a highly trained, fully authorized landscape architect girl.  Not cheap, but reasonable enough, I thought.

I have, as Dave Barry would say, the artistic sense of mayonnaise.  When I look at a blank front yard with no trees, bushes, flowers or grass, nothing happens.  Nothing.  I don't have a single idea what would look nice.  Or what wouldn't.  Not one.  Such things do not occur in my cranium.  They just don't.

So I have this plot that Landscape Girl did, which I'm sure will look just fine, seein' as how she was highly trained and fully authorized and all.  And I have maybe enough money to have the front yard done.  Maybe.  Forget the back.  I have.

This thing is 17" x 22", in color, and I want about four copies of it so that I can get some estimates from some highly trained fully authorized landscaper dudes.  I don't have access to any kind of copier that will handle anything that big, so I try the reprographics place where I used to have photo work done in a previous life.  They are closed on Saturday.  So I try Kinko's.  What the hell?  Well, it's not just Kinko's anymore.  It turned into FedExKinko's while I wasn't looking.  FedExKinko's can do "oversize" color copies, but boy are they proud of them.  $10 per square foot.  $26 per copy.  $104 plus tax for four of them.  $111, or so, for a minute's work.  Those four-color toner cartridges must be mighty expensive.  More likely it's a nuisance charge to keep low-profit-margin bozos who only want four copies (like me) from coming back.  I settled for black and white.  I'm going to call the reprographics place Monday just for giggles.  Maybe I'm just out-of-touch with the world of large full color copies.  Or maybe FedExKinko's is a major rip.  We'll see.

. . .

TC, it turns out, is in CA and has survived a bone marrow transplant.  Shitty ex-acquaintance that I am, I hadn't thought to ask after her until a long-unheard-from mutual friend called and asked for her number yesterday.  Of course, until she got sick, I had taken a solemn vow never to speak to the woman again.  Still, I feel like I should be a little more sociable, given the circumstances.

Apparently the last sister in the queue turned out to be a suitable donor.  Good thing she had six or seven brothers and sisters to choose from.  I was adopted when I was four months old and am not genetically related to anyone I've ever actually met, so I guess it would be shit-creek-city for me if I ever found myself in a similar situation.  Never thought about that before.  How about we think about something else?

. . .

In fact, why don't we attempt a tax return?  That'll take the old mind off anything else for a few hours.
Tags: compelling chronicle
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