A Woman of Independent Means

Well, sort of. I was extremely proud of myself this week, as I had a rash (ew!) of minor misfortunes that I dealt with All By Myself, like the Strong Single Mother that I am, um, emulating.

Firstly, I got a nasty clot of paperwork in the mail from my life insurance company, informing me that my policy had lapsed. Hillariously, two weeks before that, I had called to pay the bill over the phone, and secured the promise of the lady to call me if the transaction didn't go through. Which, of course, she did not do, however, thankfully I had written down her name and the date. Take THAT! Tropical Storm Edouard. Which had apparently hit the policy services department the previous day. Sigh.

Anysurance, it only took about 4 hours of calling, pleading, repeatedly getting disconnected and mashing buttons on the keypad of my phone to sort that one out.

THEN, my microphone broke, RIGHT in the middle of recording a track for the release I am planning for next week, so I cried about it to my mother, and she gave me $40.

THEN, I got a flat tire! My first ever (awwww). Thankfully, I was in the parking garage where I pay by the month for work, and I know the guy. He had a very neat little pump that you plug right into the lighter, and it pumps the tire up quickly, and incredibly loudly. We drove to the gas station and it was holding, so we came all the way home. This morning it was about half flat, so we drove to the gas station down the street and spent the $40 on a patch and a half-tank of gas. Ah, well.

THEN, the garbage men didn't take my garbage! What the heck?! They took my recycling, and left my trash can neatly where it was on the curb. I looked up the solid waste department of my town on the internet, and found that if they have done this for a reason, they will leave an orange sticker on your trash. No sticker. Total mystery. So today, I called the dump, and inquired as to their policies, and the lady said just bring my drivers' license. Of course, when I got there, the, hmm, procedurally oriented gentleman at the window asked for my town pass, but again - I had gotten the woman's name on the phone. "Heather said my drivers' license would be fine!" And so it was. Except that I had worn crocs. Eww.

Yeeps. I am a little edgy and knocking on wood all over the place, because I really want this record release to be, uh, divinely perfect. Perhaps I should manage my expectations. Perhaps I should make another backup disc.

;)