(no subject)

As usual, I was running late this morning. I grabbed my coffee and my backpack, locked the door, and dashed out of the building. I unlocked the car, got in, and turned the car on. I looked at my dashboard clock and thought, "8:18 -- cool, that gives me just about enough time to -- wait a minute. I take the bus to work . . ."

Yes, folks, eight days short of one year working at the press, and with very rare exceptions such as having visitors in town who could drop me off, I've taken the bus to work every single morning. And today I ran out and got in the car as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

What could I do? If I had gotten out of the car and gone back through the building to the bus stop, I would have probably been too late for the bus. So I drove to work.

As it turned out, I was able to get a killer parking spot in a twelve-hour zone and had enough quarters to last me 'til 12:40. And I was thinking about going home for lunch to get my cat permission form signed anyway. So it's all good™, baby. It's all good™.

(no subject)

My landlord may try to buttfuck me on this cat deal. I'm fairly sure that my lease says cats are allowed with permission, but the property manager says that they're not allowed, though she knows that some people do have them. (!) But she says it's not her call and I have to talk with the landlord. I wish I could see what the lease actually says, but I never actually got my copy after signing it. Also, the lease is up at the end of the month and I haven't heard anything about a new one. Or does it go through October? Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I'm trying to get in touch with the realty office to see if they can tell me anything before I call the landlord. And his ass is a lawyer; for some reason that doesn't make me very hopeful. Damn, if I'd known the deal I would have started looking elsewhere before now, but now it's too late to really do anything. Grrr.