I sure wish I knew why my computer is constantly malfunctioning. This morning Around noon, it happened again. I turned it on and. . . . nothing.

We couldn’t even reload XP because the cd drive had vanished without a trace. Oh, the DRIVE was there, it’s just that the computer refused to recognize it.

So Hub put it on wayback and sent it to happier times and it finally came back on, circa last week. If you understand what that means, I’m sorry; it’s happened to you, too, hasn’t it.

I still have no cd drive, but at least I can post!

WalMart deli this afternoon: one harried worker. Poor thing, I hope she gets some rest tonight; people were treating her badly. Shame on them. And what kind of person would demand a huge personalized birthday cake on a Sunday? I know the answer to that question, for I met her at the WalMart deli today. A description of her would rhyme with what poison ivy makes you do.

It is very true that if a business is going to offer a service, that business had bloody well make sure the service is available when a customer asks for it. I also think it’s disgraceful that a store manager, ANY store manager, doesn’t know how to perform pretty much every single service his/her store offers. Back in the day, managers knew. A manager could always be relied on to perform whatever needed to be done, in the absence of a clerk. Now, they don’t know much of anything, to watch them in action. Shame on them.

WalMart checkouts: Four cashiers, two of whom were working the ’20 items or less’ lanes. Ten thousand customers, all in line at once. No happy campers. When did they remove the “If there are more than five customers in line, we will open a new register. We promise!” signs? Remember those? Those were always good for a laugh. They probably took them out around the same time all the “WalMart sells only products made in America” signs disappeared.

Why do I go back? I don’t know.

Yes, I do. It’s the only place in this town where I can buy lemons by the bag.

I used to shun WalMart. I would always go to K-Mart if I could. But I’m fast changing my mind, in spite of everything.

I seldom return anything to a store. I have always figured that anything that didn’t work out was my mistake, and why should the store have to cover for me? (Unless it was broken or missing a part; that’s entirely different.)

But a few weeks ago, I bought a “universal Motorola car charger” for my cell phone. I have a Motorola phone, and the charger said “universal.” I assumed, silly me, that “universal” meant that the charger would work for all Motorola phones.

What do I know? After trying unsuccessfully to make it fit my phone, I realized that the charger was mislabeled: it should have said, “universal Motorola car charger for all Motorola phones in the known universe except yours.”

So I took it back to K-Mart, where I was told that since it was from ‘electronics,’ I was not ‘eligible’ for a refund, but would have to walk back to Electronics (which is, naturally, in the north forty) and find something that cost $19.99, and trade off. So I walked back to the north forty, found a phone card, walked back to the front desk, and gave it to the clerk. It would not work in her register. She took it over to the main register. It would not work there, either. She told me that I would have to walk back to electronics and find something else. I did, and brought back another phone card. It would not work in the register, either. She send me back to the north forty again, to ask the clerk to try it in THAT register. It didn’t work. None of the phone cards worked in any of the K-Mart registers. By this time, I was limping noticeably. The clerk at the front desk finally took pity on me, and gave me a gift card, labeled, in large letters, “Returned merchandise card.” But after all that, who cared.

Compare:

About a month ago, I bought a landline phone at WalMart. When I got it home and opened the box, there was nothing in it but a base and a cord. I lost my receipt somewhere between the car and the store. I showed it to the man at the service desk and he was horrified, apologized because I’d had to return to the store, and gave me an instant refund. No questions asked.

Now, where do you suppose I’ll be making most of my purchases from now on? Hmmmmmm?

I did get a few files organized for the new semester. By “a few” I mean, naturally, enough for tomorrow. Sigh. I need a secretary.

Also, if Chase Bank calls us one more time with that recorded voice that says “Hello! Please hold for an important message!!!” I’m going to start screaming and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.

Dear Chase Bank, I know I’m late, but I can’t pay you until I get paid! You know you’ll get it! I’ve never not paid.

So lay off. Thank you.

I hate it when the phone rings and I’m scared to answer it. When is the lottery going to pay off? When?

I took my three kittens to the vet’s today to be scooped. Since it’s more complicated to neuter a female than a male (snip snip, you’re done!) I really thought all three girls would be taking it easy tonight, lying around sipping water and trying not to irritate the stitches.

Not so.

All three girls have bikini-shaped shaved areas and an inch or so of stitches, but to see them scamper and play, nobody would ever know that today was Fertility Cessation Day for them. I paid extra for pain medication, but they don’t seem to be in pain. They’re too busy scampering!

I’m glad they’re feeling so well, but I sure hope they don’t bust a move on those stitches. I took them in at 7:30 this morning and picked them up at 3:30 this afternoon, and while they were gone I really, really wanted to go back to bed scrubbed down the floor of the laundry room, messed with the flowers on the front porch (the deer keep eating them!) fixed spaghetti and meat balls for Zappa’s last meal at home (he officially moved into his new place tonight) did nine hundred thousand loads of laundry, and bagged up a bazillion pounds of poopy kitty litter.

Then, I took a shower, and while Hub was loading the pickup with one more load of furniture to take up to the new apartment, I escaped from it all and hung out with my Tumorless Sister and some dear, dear friends. We had dinner and then headed over to their house for some wild and scandalous drinking of diet coke and playing of Trivial Pursuit, 90’s version, and some killer Scattergories.

Item: I am not very knowledgeable about the nineties, apparently. However, I redeemed myself with Scattergories, although I did not win. Tumorless always wins. Nobody else has a chance, if she is playing.

However, I was the only person around the table who knew what “kwashiorkor” was. And when the assigned letter was “K,” don’t think I didn’t use it to my advantage.

I learned about kwashiorkor in seventh grade. The word was so funky, I have remembered it all my life.

Tomorrow, I’m meeting Tumorless and our mom for lunch. Tomorrow night, I plan to organize my files for the new semester.

One of those plans will definitely come to pass.