Wheelbarrow Full of Blues

I feel so shitty today. It's partly my female parts doing their monthly ablutions and partly my gastric system taking issue with something I ate. That's way too much pain in your belly at one time, let me tell you. And they are distinctly different kinds of pain.

I think we have the dumbest fax machine known to man here at work. It feeds out faxes from the SAME SPOT that it takes in paper to copy. If you bump into the pile of finished faxes, it will try and suck the top one and jam. It's doing this WHILE it is trying to fax. Dumb.

Our sellers on the Hickory Cluster house have turned out to be...well, we'll just say not-nice-people.

OK, they are dickheads.

They are selling us a house with a broken window and they have refused to fix it saying that it's cosmetic. Basically, they are claiming that everything the inspector turned up is costmetic. Note to bozos: if it's mechanical, it can't be cosmetic. Duh. Hello? You're SELLING A HOUSE HERE. While Tino[1] and I are tempted to punish them by telling them to fuck off and taking our money elsewhere (because we still can), we do actually want the house. This is not about the money anyway. Bastards.

I shouldn't say anything. I'm about to become an asshole landlord myself.

Everything with the Reston mortgage is going badly. You name it, it's fucked up. I can't even imagine this all actually going through by the 31st, but I'm not the processor, so I guess it's her job to sweat it through. Part of it is the fault of my employer for monkeying around with my pay, but there's not a damn thing I can do about that.

Part of it is due to the drug war. No, I'm not kidding. Just trust me that there is a lot of paperwork involved if you're trying to use money from someone who is not your relative. A LOT of paperwork. Why, I ask? To prevent the bank from being slapped with a violation for laundering money. Never mind that no one I'm taking money from has ever been a drug dealer. Punish everyone with a further loss of privacy.

Your papers, comrade?