Miraculously and mysteriously, my vehicle registration and safety paperwork showed up at the dealership today.
How about that.
So, I guess my truck is all street legal now and whatnot. Which means I can go down and sign my loan paperwork. And THAT is exciting to me.
And this morning, at 9am (a much more civilized hour) the pediatrician called me about Baby, to give me an update, talk about his prognosis, and discuss upcoming appointments. It was all so lovely and organized.
But don't worry, plenty of other things are chapping my ass. Like, my neighbor. This is the neighbor who blows things up on holidays (most notably, himself a few years ago - but he's all better now and back to his usual nonsense.) A typical guy's guy, he has two pickup trucks. And every day midsized truck, and then a huge, duelly pickup with quad cab and lights on the roof, which he uses to tow around his enormous fishing boat. He also has a dirtbike, natch. I have never seen him use the dirtbike, but he sure CLEANS the fucking thing often enough. He has a powerwasher for all of his manly stuff, and he powerwashes the CRAP out of his dirtbike on a semi-regular basis. Like today. In the rain. It's loud, and obnoxious, and wholly unnecessary. Adding to the noise (and my distress) is his HORRENDOUS taste in music, all early-mid eighties, cranked up to a ear-splitting volume, and played in his driveway on his car stereo, with the doors left open. frequently, the front end of the truck sticks out several feet into the street, to leave more room for powerwashing. And if it gets dark before he is done powerwashing (he's been at it for about 30 minutes now) he will turn on spotlights, to illuminate his life's work.
It will surprise you to learn that while he is married (and god bless her because she MUST be a saint) he has no children, and still lives with his mom.
1 hour ago