I'm in NYC till Saturday. This packing job suddenly expanded to a full-scale re-pack of boxes that were supposedly ready to go onto a skid and head for London but that had barely even been wrapped in paper and put in a box. And those packed boxes weight 55 lbs when they shouldn't weigh more than 35 or 40. My plane ticket for this weekend is non-refundable, but I might be able to get a credit; I'll have to call Delta.
I'm close to broke and overcharging on my card, thanks to this. Just when I think I'm getting ahead on it, BAM, something happens to put me light back at the limit. Me and money. Hah!
I don't MIND staying in NYC; this'll give me a chance to see the city...and I'd actually kind of wanted it. It's like the fates heard me and said, Okay.
So WHY can't the Fates hear me when I tell them I need money to live in Ireland for 2 years and fix it so I can? Selective little beasts, they are.
I've had some more ideas about POS. Brendan's still sitting off to himself, relaxing; these are about other characters. Including an elderly woman in Houston who's so racist she can't see how racist she is. I wonder how I can work her in?