Wrapping up the week

Just like yesterday's garbage gets wrapped up and tossed away, last week should be over and done with. But the bank follow up is pretty interesting. I called first thing Saturday morning, and after pushing a couple buttons, listening to a few phone menus, finally, a customer barely service agent was reached.

Yes, bank policy is to freeze all my assets until I call and talk to a representative. Apparently, it is legal to freeze thousands in assets because I owed them 15 dollars.

Madoff bilks banks and others out of untold millions (billions?) and how many others default on millions, and yet, I am past due $15 and they are all over me. Bastages. I paid them off (it was only about $100 in total) and requested my fees be reversed, with me being a good customer and all. I need to call back again, because the Saturday customer barely service person doesn't have that kind of clout. Banks suck.

And while I'm complaining about thieves, I bought the Crotchety Old Lady a camera for Christmas. She used it for a month, and now it needs batteries. Ok, no biggie. What do you think batteries cost for that thing?

$30. For batteries that last a few weeks. I had her get the rechargeable ones instead, but holy crap. A Die Hard battery that will start a Buick in 0 degree weather (that's crazy cold temperature for our Celsius standard temperature readers) is only about double that. As soon as the batteries show up, she promised to take a picture of my kidney stone so it can be posted. It's worth the wait.

Saturday morning I borrowed a page from
Dead Rooster's sure fire method for seducing women.

I prepared the Crotchety Old Lady a nice breakfast, and washed the dishes. I made her an omelet with onions and home fries with Yukon Gold potatoes. And not a piece of poop related paraphenalia was exchanged.

The result?

Terrible.

She now believes that either
A. She's got some incurable illness and has days to live
or
B. I'm up to something nefarious

As I type, she is outside in the cold and dark, shoveling the snow. She has washed and ironed my underwear (which is nice, admittedly.) She is trying to prove to herself and me that she is as healthy as ever.

What a moral dilemma I have. Should I simply tell her the truth and let her read the blog post that encouraged me, or wait until she paints the shed?

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