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Smalls, Stalls and Balls.... - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
captainsblog
captainsblog
Smalls, Stalls and Balls....
The small things of the past couple of days have been victories.  We take the little ones when we can get them.

I've been keeping Tazzer from sleeping-in with me the past few mornings because of a Series of Unfortunate Events that really started getting worse about a week ago.  I felt awful about it, and at least Wednesday (the day I was away from 7:30 a.m. until 8:30 p.m.), apparently so did he- and he let out his displeasure all over the house.

So yesterday, I made some efforts.  I came home twice during the day to check up on him and give him some cuddles- and then, after I got home for good, I holed him up in my office while I walked the dog right before feeding time.  The result was one of his best days in quite some time.  Also, before coming home the final time, I picked up some washable perma puppy pads, and put them under a towel on top of my bedding this morning. I let him in to sleep with me after feeding time, and it went fine.

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The stalls were just matters of wasted time the previous two days, but they seem to have worked out.

Wednesday morning, when I had to be on the road to Rochester early, my car decided to pop a CHECK TIRE PRESSURE idiot code.  (Yes, it's that color, designed by engineers for maximum annoyance).  I hit a gas station to check and at least temporarily fix; air used to be a free service of "service stations," but now they're on metered machines that give you three minutes for four quarters. The air should start as soon as the fourth quarter drops; this one gave nothing even after five.  And there's no coin return on these things, which tells you how customer-friendly they are.  Fortunately, the station gave me a refund, but by then I had to get going, and the drive and mileage all seemed fine.  I got out to Emily's around 6, tried two more stations, and still struck out: one had an out-of-order sign, the other didn't even have a machine.  So home, safely.  Yesterday morning, the quarters finally worked- three were slightly over-inflated, the fourth a few PSI's down, but they've been fine ever since ::knocks on air::

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Then there are the cojones.

I met yesterday with the lawyer for the neighbors, who I'd written to with the answer to "what can we do" question I got from him last week. I spent about two paragraphs giving that answer, but only after more like two pages of explanation of why the status quo was so unacceptable.  The answer, though, was simple:

(1) move the damn thing, to a place that town and utility officials determine to be safe; and
(2) put up a sufficiently high fence so we don't have to look at the playpen in the evenings.

They were fine with the second point, but their lawyer claimed that his clients had checked with both code people and utility people and they they were fine with how things are.  As Hawkeye Pierce once said, "that story is, to say the least, interesting. It is, to say the most, perjury." So we're bopping over to the local National Grid office at the end of the day today, with pictures of the current installation, just to see what they tell US about it.
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