I Got Sick From City Hall
Good god in heaven, whoever set up L & I (that's Licenses and Inspections for those of you who are lucky enough not to know) is either a complete moron or an evil genius. This place was worse than any Soviet bureaucracy anyone could ever imagine. You had to take a number in Line X in order to get a number for Line Y. Heaven help you if you got your Line Y ticket first. You're screwed, man. Go home, forget it. Start fresh tomorrow.
So I spent the better part of two days in this hellhole sitting. standing. sighing. reading. sighing. fuming and sitting. And to make matters worse, a) there was NO Food or Drink Allowed in the building and b) if they called your number and you weren't there (i.e. taking a bathroom break after crossing your legs for three hours), you are sent back to the bottom of the stack.
In my pathetic attempt to Stick It To The Man, I pulled out a bag of pretzels and stood directly under the NO Food or Drink Allowed sign and chomped away on the little buggers.
Can I *please* get a "You GO, Girl!" Please?
In any event, my time in the Temple of Doom had a surprise ending. I was walking out of the building and Daximus rings and says "There's probably no chance in hell you're anywhere near [The Location That The CCQS Will Ultimately Be], but I'm there and was about to have lunch..."
Yay! That chance in hell was right on the money. I was over there in five minutes and we had a most lovely midday detox! It made it all worth while! Hurrah!
AND this morning a friend offered me a pre-release of the February 24 Battlestar Galactica that his roommate, who works in the teevee biz, offered him. Can you believe he didn't want it? For shame!
So Say We All.