Overcast morning, so I decide to catch up on a little online banking, except their website is down for scheduled maintenance (again). How come I never find out in advance of this? Not to worry, I’ll take a trip into town instead.
I patiently wait at the Albertson’s in-store bank counter. Always a line. Wish I’d remembered to bring my Kindle. I see the Starbucks line behind me is longer, thankful I didn’t come in for coffee. Finally, it’s my turn.
For the second time in as many months, unauthorized monthly maintenance fees have been charged to my account, which they won’t waive, so the bank is now charging me for borrowing my money. I don’t think so. I close my accounts – all of them – do a little grocery shopping and then trek off to another, friendlier bank across town to deposit the funds.
Repaving maintenance is underway in the banks miniscule car park and I have to squeeze into the tiny, single space left. They’re going to need a can opener to get back into the car next to me. No line at this bank, and five minutes later, I’m back out and on the way home, or would be if I wasn’t stuck in traffic. How can there be so much traffic in such a small village? Don’t they know I have milk and other spoilable foods in the boot of my car?
By the time I get home, it’s already noon and half the day is gone. Maybe I’ll get to write today. I hope so. I unpack the groceries, put them away and go to my office. Oh, I see a fax came in while I was out and I have business to attend to. It’s now nearly two o’clock, and the work is going to take me at least another hour, if not more. Somewhere I have to stop and squeeze in lunch, and I notice a layer of dust on my desk. Actually, it’s way more than a layer, but I won’t go there; I don’t have time.
Who said the weekend is bliss? Instead of running errands and doing chores, I should have spent mine looking for a personal assistant and a maid. Then maybe I’d get some work done and feel less crabby.