Let's not relive yesterday, shall we? Oy.
First of all, just after I went out and spent a large chunk of that lovely tax refund, I was informed that my services were no longer needed at my current temp job - nothing to do with me, you understand - I was basically there because a whole lot of people were out on maternity leave, and now they're all coming back. And my agency didn't yet get me another job.
So I thought, well, I'll get some groceries. And went to the cash machine. Where I discovered that my ATM card was among the missing. Got home, called the last place I used it (Trader Joe's, on Saturday, I thought), and I hadn't left it there. Called Citibank to cancel. They reminded me that I used the card on Sunday at the deli. Not at the deli, either. So I ordered a new ATM card, and they told me it would be here in a week and I should go to a branch bank and get a temporary one.
Then Sarah came over to do her taxes, and I went to look for her tax papers, and found that someone had thrown them out. This would be Cousin Joshua, who throws stuff out without looking at it. He did it to me last year. Luckily, I had my instructions, and between me and Rebecca, we managed to come up with the forms...but at this point it transpired that Joshua had also somehow thrown out one of Sarah's W-2s. (Joshua's method of cleaning is to grab huge armloads of whatever is lying around and dump them, without ever looking at what he's doing. Then he tells you he never touched whatever it was he threw out.)
You have to understand that last night was the night I picked to start drinking non-alcoholic beer, because I have been going just a tad bit overboard with the real stuff. All I can think of is one of the guys in Airplane (I'm pretty sure it's Lloyd Bridges as the air captain they haul out of retirement to help get the plane on the ground) who says, at regular intervals, "Looks like I picked the wrong day to give up smoking." He continues this at intervals with "...give up drinking," and "...give up drugs." That's EXACTLY how I felt. However, by the time I decided the hell with it, I'm gonna get a real beer, the deli had closed, thereby neatly saving me from myself.
So today I trotted off to my local branch bank and got a temporary ATM card and called the agency to annoy them about finding me a job ("I'm terrific! Everybody loves me! I'll work nights! I'll take out the garbage! Need the dog walked?" - I'm shameless). Then, since I was in that direction, I checked out a few stores (the branch bank is at 16th and 5th, and there's Anthropologie and J. Crew and H&M and Old Navy and Payless and Laila Rowe...) and discovered that the only places I can afford (i.e. H&M and Old Navy) have clothes I can't wear. I don't care how casual offices have become - I cannot go traipsing around in a sundress with spaghetti straps or a deep halter neck. Aside from the fact that I'm 63 years old, for God's sake, the air conditioning would freeze me to death. I'm thinking of setting up picket lines for middle aged ladies around all dress designers' places. Our signs would say nothing but "SLEEVES, DAMN IT!!!!" in great big letters. Really. Unless you're Madonna, a middle aged armpit is not attractive (check out the city streets in summer - my point is illustrated perfectly).
And Sarah has (I just discovered via telephone) gathered all the stuff she needs for her taxes and is on her way. Why can't my child learn to do taxes?
I had great plans for tonight...of course, if the damn temp agency doesn't call, I'll have all kinds of time tomorrow to do whatever. Unfortunately, I don't WANT all kinds of time tomorrow, I want a goddamn job. Growl.