And so it goes .....

..... when we last left our heroine, she was trying to refrain from thumping herself silly before a major work endeavor.

Well, just as I posted, the inevitable "issue" happened. A colleague, who was scheduled to present not once, but twice(!), fell ill. (And I might add here that the second presentation was a "political" presentation. Not one I would have scheduled if I had not been "requested" to add.) It fell to me to 1) find a suitable presenter substitute (read: victim); 2) make the decision in time to allow the substitute to become familiar with work that was not her own.

Let me clarify. If one produces a professional development presentation, it stands to reason that one is somewhat of an expert in the field. If one is substituting and using someone else's presentation...all bets are off. The person who got the flu, kept insisting she would be well enough to travel. It was Wednesday, the presentation was Friday, she looked terrible, I just couldn't take the risk. So I filled in for one and a friend pulled my bacon out of the fire for the other. Everything went OK, but still. I truly didn't need the stress that this invoked.

Sigh. So now the cleanup. Thank you notes, budget stuff, find my sunglasses...you know the usual.

And this morning I dropped my vehicle off for minor (ha!) bodywork. They gave me a loaner. I was expecting the little crappy thing they gave me last time.....instead, I get a 2007 (or 08) Tribecca!! Leather seats, the size of a tank, everything electronic....yoi! Makes me crazy nervous! Go figure. I want my Forester!!

The joys ......

... of living in a college town. Those of you in An Arbor, Chapel Hill, College Station and other similar venues will probably be able to relate.

I'm watching a tape and knitting at 2:30 am on Sunday morning. (Yes, I keep odd hours on the weekend.) Our drapes are drawn, and the outside lights are out. We live in a small townhouse development that is far enough away from the campus that we don't have oddles of students around. Apparently it doesn't matter. There I was minding my own business, and the doorbell rings. I'm stunned. The doorbell! At first I think, maybe it's the newspaper carrier. (He's a middle aged fellow, with a disabled son. He delivers papers so he can stay home with his kid.) I'm thinking maybe he was delivering the Sunday paper and his car broke down, or he hit someone's vehicle or something. So I go to the back door and turn on the porch light. Nothin'. The bell rings again! Front door! Our door is solid, no way to see who is there, unless I peep out the front window (and turn on the porch light), or open the door, which leaves me very vulnerable.

Now I do have a husband, who is upstairs doing goodness knows what, and who apparently has not heard the bell. I run upstairs and say "Someone is ringing the door bell!" "You're kidding!??" As if to confirm that I'm not crazy or dreaming, the bell rings again, now for the third time. He says, "Don't open the door!" Well, duh! Look out the upstairs window and see who it is....well I can't see the person. Bell rings yet again! So I actually OPEN the upstairs window, it is in the teens by the way, and call out "Can I help you?" It is a young fellow, in his twenties probably. He says "Is Roger "Something" here?" I tell him I'm sorry but he has the wrong unit. "Do you know where he lives?" What? Do I look like directory assistance? I ask if he knows the unit number. Even a few digits would help. No, he doesn't. So, genius, why not just choose a house at random and ring the bell in the middle of the night. Great idea! Pretty much par for the course in a college town. I tell him I cannot help him, and he apologizes profusely "for bothering you", and walks away. He is clearly lost, and he is also shaky--frightened, drunk, drugs, I couldn't tell.

Now, though, I suspect it wasn't quite so random. He probably saw the lights and figured we were awake, however, unless I was in dire straits, I would not just knock on a strange door. I certainly hope it was no more nefarious than idiocy, which is in no small supply here. I wanted to ask why he didn't just call "Roger". But didn't get the chance.

I debated about calling the police, but really didn't want to wait for an officer to come and take a report. It was "THON" weekend and the town was packed with visitors.

Lest you think this is something out of the ordinary (people just randomly coming to the door and asking where "someone" lives), I once answered the back door, on a week night, only to find a young couple in formal wear. It was 11:00 pm, and I was in my jammies. The couple were as shocked to see me as I was to see them. They were looking for a party, and were told the host had a "silver" car parked in front. Our neighbor at the time had a silver car, but I didn't think she was having a party either. They just picked a house.

And to add to the fun, about two months ago, I came home to a "Code Red" message on our answering machine. It was from the local police, alerting the residents in our area that there was an armed and dangerous person being pursued in our area. At first I thought it was one of those robo-calls, and nearly blew it off, but as I listened it because obvious that it was an officer reading from a script. It spooked the hell out of me, I can tell you.

So the fun just never ends.......not even in the wee hours of the morning.

How dumb am I....

Wait don't answer that!

I've been struggling all day with blogger not showing images. What the heck is going on, thought I? Sheesh! Well, when I went to ABCNews and I couldn't get the images to show there either......I realized that the problem was me NOT blogger.

Weeelllllp, yesterday I was trying to get rid of some cookies and the like in Firefox and tighten up my security. I, accidentally on purpose, checked the box that only allowed images from the referring site. Duh. Where did I think those images in blogger came from? Blogger or a second site.

I finally realized what was going on and fixed it. Double duh!