Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

"I like to think of my behavior in the sixties as a 'learning experience.' Then again, I like to think of anything stupid I've done as a 'learning experience.' It makes me feel less stupid." -- P.J. O'Rourke, Give War A Chance (thanks to jpallan)

First, thanks to the folks who contributed advice regarding my construction project.

Now today's amusement. The last mail delivery before my hold-mail order goes into effect just arrived through the slot in my front door. Two pieces. One a familiar yellow card from Milpitas crying, "We've lost you!" and reminding me that my SCA membership had expired.

The other was an envelope containing a blue page trumpeting, "Here's your new membership card!" Realizing that my membership had expired and Pennsic was fast approaching, I renewed online and printed out proof-of-membership from the web site to show at troll at Pennsic to avoid the non-member surcharge. (If I subtract that surcharge from the cost of membership, it basically means Tournaments Illuminated costs me $5/year.) I went to the trouble of printing the online proof-of-membership because I figured there was no chance my new membership card would get here before I left (tomorrow before dawn).

The juxtaposition of the two items in my mailbox amused me. Oh, I can think of a bunch of reasons it makes sense that it happened this way, but that ain't gonna extinguish the amusement. Especially since it was the very last mail delivery before I head off to War.

Whoops. Misremembered an amount. Just went through bills to take care of the ones in the "consequences expensive and annoying to undo if paid late" category so that my car doesn't become not-legally-registered or all the food in my freezer rot while I'm away.

Argh. No money for lumber and hardware after all; gonna have to continue doing things the harder-than-it-has-to-be-but-at-least-it-works way, with regard to the platform for my tent. And hope that I've got some heretofore unnoticed busking chops. Fortunately I'll get a little money for driving the truck.

Could be worse. I could be not-going. <<shudder>> (Also could've been worse if I'd made the lumber and grocery shopping runs before totalling other things up...)

One of the ... things ... about renting a cat (for as a wag once observed, you don't own a cat, you rent it from the veterinarian), especially the longer-haired breeds, though some talented shorthairs can convert this much of their food into hair as well, is folding sheets warm from the dryer and discovering clinging to them freshly manufactured toy mice, felted by the washer and dryer from your own cat's loose fur that had been clinging there as individual fibers before machine agitation and tumble drying worked their topological magic. Whether this thing is an entertainment or a major annoyance is, I suppose entirely a matter of the philosophy with which one views it, or at least one's mood at laundry-folding time.

Still flummoxed by finances; packing proceeds apace.