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Five years early and six minutes too late:P - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
Five years early and six minutes too late:P

Right. THAT was a week. I was scheduled to have five court appearances in four different places in three cities in the past three days; one got postponed, but the times and places of the remaining three of them amounted to sheer suckage. I wound up having to be in Rochester late Tuesday, early Wednesday and then again late Thursday, with just the one chance to save a round-trip by staying with the kids. The cases were also filled with weird coincidences, unexpected delays, and general bullshittery.

And speaking of shittery: Eleanor has her colonoscopy tomorrow, and today's the dreaded Prep Day. We did the his-and-hers drill for the first time each, five years ago; her screen back then had some minor but mandatory re-check stuff, so it was clear (see what I did there? you will when you do prep) that she'd be on the five-year schedule.

Me? Not so much. Mine, when done the following week five years ago, was okey-dokey, and there's no family history; but that didn't stop our previous but now discharged (did it again) G.E. from trying to schedule me for a five-year recheck, as well.  When Eleanor moved to a new practice, so did I- and I, in time, got the call to schedule.  But the new guys thought long and hard about it, and actually got the doc with me on the phone who was almost ready to call it off.  Only after I gave him a couple of TMI answers to some current-colorectal-condition questions did we decide: yeah, let's schedule it.

We haven't- yet. I'll probably do it when transporting Eleanor tomorrow.  And I do need to be sure it's covered by my insurance and to what extent.  But the prep, bad as it is, is never as bad as some make it out to be- I did it for a separate kidney-related procedure a few years ago that wound up being called off- and given how busy the Grim Reaper has been this year with both friends and famous, it seems to be a better safe than sorry call.


Back to that last court appearance:  Buffalo is known as the City of Good Neighbors. Apparently, we're a little too good.

Downtown street parking is regulated by meter receipt machines. You pay for your time and it prints out a receipt that you put on your windshield. Many times, I've given and received receipts with unused time on them- when I/they either had to overpay for time (credit cards require an hour minimum), or something or other just wound up going quicker than expected.

No more. Parking Machine II: Electric Boogaloo has arrived. You have to key in your plate number, and it prints it on the receipt. No more sharing.  How petty.  Also, in my case, how stupid: I was so flummoxed by the new tetch-naw-luh-gee, I could only figure out how to pay for the hour minimum.  The hearing, alas, lasted just over that, and by the time I got back to my car, Stanley the Butch Meter Maid had already slapped a $30 ticket on my windshield for being six minutes over.

Of course he did.  Shiny new machines, plus the chance to ticket people who forget to put in their plate number or are the recipient of a random act of kindness.  But it's okay- yesterday, I told a client I'd pay a ticky-tack $30 filing fee for him, but he insisted on sending me a check for it. So the ticket winds up being a wash.

I'd tell the City of Buffalo to kiss my ass, but I think I'll wait to do it on my own Prep Day:P

Meanwhile, out here in the burbs, I got to witness some idiot doing this when I was at the gym late in the day:

No parking ticket for HIM. I think I'll fart in his general direction, too, when the time comes.

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