I made it home from work and Wally World in one piece and am enjoying my hot cocoa while I check email and blog about how sheepish I feel...so pull up a mug and
You must buy these gingerbread marshmallows - soooo good in cocoa!
I may have to start a regular rant on how I am turning into my mother. Not that she is a terrible person or anything - it's just that at 50, I am starting to see more similarities between how she and I operate on a daily basis. (And she's 80) Case in point: I recently got a parking ticket on a fun lunch outing with the boys. I. Hate. Parking. Downtown. It is impossible to find a spot, then when you do, they make it so complicated.
These new parking meters take plastic, which is good, but they spit out a sticky ticket you must place curbside on the inside of your windshield. Which I did. I even paid for 3 hours so we would have plenty of time. Mere seconds after we passed the meter guy walking away from our car, I saw it on my windshield.
A ticket. But where was the meter receipt? Under Scout's shoe.
It had fallen off, probably right after we left the car. Dammit!!
I'm not proud that I chased the poor guy down in my vehicle and asked him to take back the ticket. Not happy that, days later, rather than go downtown yet again to pay it, I wrote the freaking check. Yes, I acted the fool by writing on the memo line that the attendant was a stooge. And, I wrote "Payment for Parking Ticket Written to me in Error" in bold letters on the front of the envelope.
Today I got a note that the fee was waived, and my check back.
Just like something my mother would do...