Good News, Bad News, Not SO Bad News...

First, the good news. My car smells great, and has all day.


Now the bad news. The reason it smells so good is the floor is drenched in coffee. I got a tall cup, this being Friday and me with a long drive ahead of me. I needed extra help keeping alert. I set it down in the hollow between the cup holder and the transmission. It's almost as good, normally, and all the other spots were filled. Then I started driving, and had to brake somewhat suddenly.

I bet you know what happened next. It, being a taller than usual cup, went forward, then ass over teakettle into the passenger footwell. My hand reached after it almost as quickly. I went for the bottom, thinking that I could rescue what hadn't poured out the slot in the lid and save at least a little bit of it. After all, I had snapped that lid on securely before paying for it.

All I can say is that the lid was found in the vicinity of the lip of the upside down cup. Not attached.

The next cup of coffee I bought this morning was normal size. And it went into a cup holder, while something else went into the hollow space.


Now the not so bad news. Steve called me, informing me a letter had arrived from Arizona. Who from? The return address had a bunch of initials that belong to the Homeowner's Association. He hadn't opened it, even though anything from them is for both of us. They just are too lazy or something to put his name on it too.  Well, he wasn't in the same room with it, so he'd have to call me back.

This is the part where I start worrying. These guys don't send out letters with good news. They send letters telling you to do a better job cleaning up your back yard behind your dog, or weeds have sprung up while you were several states away, or something else requiring your attention whether you are there or not.

Or else!

So while I was picking up my next box to deliver, he was reading the letter and I was wondering how bad it was this time, and what might we have to do? With my hands full, the call back went to voicemail.  I waited until the package was loaded, paperwork filled in, and I was sitting comfortably before listening.

It's time to pay the $20 annual dues.

Oh.

OK.