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Wednesday, November 17, 2004

Every day I get in a little further over my head. Hereís what Iíve been told: We need to bill the tenants at The Kennel between the 15th and the 20th of the month, so that they can pay by the 5th of the following month. Hereís what I donít know: The names and addresses of the tenants, and how much to bill them.

Every day a little piece of the puzzle comes together, but thereís no way Iím going to have a full billing ready by November 20 (whenever that is). Even if I get names and addresses tomorrow and set up a mail merge data base, Iím lacking basic information. The cages are different sizes. The dogs are different breeds. (Oh yes, that matters.) Some of them have extra charges (chew toys and the like).

And then thereís the matter of the electrical fees. Someone faxed to me today a list of meter readings for the beginning and end of the billing period. I donít know what rates to apply to those readings. I do know that some tenants pay a flat rate, but I donít know who or how much. Iím getting seriously dizzy with all the uncertainty, and every time I ask a question, someone has to check with someone else. They can promise to get back to me, oh yes, but until they do it, I donít have to believe it.

Whatever they expect of me, nothing is getting done either well or on time. Itís eating at me, so much that I found myself spending most of the afternoon in the recliner with an afghan over my knees and with my eyes closed, hoping for some kind of release. Mostly hoping, frankly, that the phone wouldnít ring.

The phone could bring either the answers to my questions, which would mean Iíd have to get to work, or more questions, which would mean Iíd have to explain again why Iím not getting the work done. Either way, nothing good could come of the phone ringing on a day like this.




16 November 2004

Looking through the old oak.



Well, the phone didnít ring, which means I have to go through this same ordeal tomorrow. And tomorrow and tomorrow, until itís all resolved. Itís just too much. If I didnít know there was a clinical definition of ďdepression,Ē Iíd say Iím depressed. I guess Iím just sad and overwhelmed and ready to crawl under something. I donít have far to go, since Iím already in over my head.




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Stuff

Itís not called the ďlower houseĒ for nothing. Republicans in the House of Representatives outdid themselves today by voting to change a party rule that would have excluded indicted felons from leadership positions. Why? Well, thereís a chance their leader, Tom DeLay, will be indicted for illegal campaign contributions, and they donít want to lose (or even irritate) the guy whose (illegal) redistricting in Texas is solely responsible for the increased majority they now have in the House. Donít worry, Tom, your job is safe no matter what you did, whether you get caught at it or not. (Where are your ďmoralsĒ now, eh? Isnít that what most of the people who voted for you named as the main reason? ďMoralsĒ?)

Recent recommendations can always be found on the links page.


One year ago: Inconspicuous
"I'm still not quite back to that good rhythm, where things get done zip bam bash. Today it was more zip pant gasp."

Four years ago: We All Want to Change the World
"What we're going through now isn't going to tear us apart or devalue the Constitution. Our institutions are stronger than anything we put them through."


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