I've been avoiding a series of errands in favor of fanning the torch that is my current workout bonanza. Yeah, ok, so it's not so much a "torch" as it is a "candle" and we all know that it's prone to being extinguished by even the piddliest of breezes. Someone getting a cataract test three states away might be enough to do the trick, I mean who knows? I'm just running with it while the fragile little flame is alive. Right, and it certainly ain't no "bonanza" either.
SO-- Due to a string of unfortunate events which have rendered my favorite racquetball partner unavailable on Wednesdays (you may want to put that cup of coffee down for a moment to prepare for when I tell you of what is occupying his time on Wednesday nights), and an inability to scare up another willing participant in time, I was not able to fuel the sad little fire this evening. Since laughing at B's misfortune is not, in and of itself, aerobically significant, I biked 8 extra miles this morning, thereby leaving this afternoon free for such exotic events as a visit to the bank, the dry cleaner, shopping (brick and mortar!) for a sofa sectional, picking up dinner and other basic necessities at the supermarket, going to Home Depot to get copies of the condo keys made then over to the condo to test said keys.
Let me tell you, in case you didn't already know; there are some surly mother fuckers working at Home Depot. Does "Keys Made Here" mean something entirely different in Russian cause the dude who was tasked with cloning my keys treated me as if I'd just cancelled his HBO. He was all snatchy about borrowing my originals from me and put all the wrong keys on all the wrong templates. So much for my cute little plan involving Pooh Bear and the Terrapin keys. He was having none of that. Whatever, I didn't complain. Since my first question went over like a furred pastrami at a PETA convention I didn't ask any more questions. I just kindly asked him for two sets of the three keys. Then I was completely quiet yet extra smiley in hopes of silently sucking up to the keymaster (because, as you know, I am always nice to people. At least initially. Especially those who have the capacity to ruin my productively frenzied evening by generating faulty keys) but his ice was unmeltable. When he haphazardly handed me four keys in an envelope I had the audacity to remind him that I had asked for 6 keys. He gave me a squinted look and said something very not nice in Russian. Trust me, the only words I can recognize in Russian are the very not nice ones.
So of course, in the end, he managed to make 4 out of the 6 keys (which as far as I can tell consists of placing the original key into a machine and then standing by for 15 seconds) incorrectly. Therefore, a mere hour after leaving Home Depot, I was back at Home Depot.
In between HoDe visits, I had the pleasure of chatting with the troll at the condo's front desk. You'll never believe what she asked me. Thrice. No, go on. Guess.
It was pushing 9pm by the time I got home and kicked off my work shoes. B wasn't due home for another hour but his religion class let out early and he was home by 9:30. Oh? Did I forget to tell you? Yeah, he has to take yet another class before CUC will fork over his cert. Yes, the cert that they promised 6 months ago. And yep, it's another religion class.
After being admitted to a one year program, taking 21 credits one semester and 24 the next all while working and student teaching, he was told this week that he's got "one more class to go". This is the third time that B has been told he was "done" and "ready to graduate" only to be later retracted. Over a month ago he was told that his certificate was "right here on my desk and just waiting to be signed!" and now... not. Why? Because they can.
They're not only willing, but insisting on holding up his career, his pension, his health insurance, his whole life (therefore, our whole lives), in the name of, what? A math class? A physics class? Something relevant to his life/degree like a kinesiology class?! No-- they're doing it to collect more tuition and simultaneously force-feed their religion down his throat in chokably huge four-hour doses. As if their actions up until this point don't tell us all we need to know..?
Yeah, he's one happy pup.