bad two days too dazed blues

Rather windy last night, rattled our bedroom outer storm window all night long. Must have loosened something because today a visitor mentioned broken glass all over our side sidewalk — seems our storm window blew out and shattered, sending jagged glass down three stories to a empty sidewalk. And, as I was looking out the window at the damage, the window blinds fell down, striking my head and face. My first thought was what the flax did I do to disturb the flux this much?

My basic flow seems off lately — like I click to go somewhere on the net and the computer says DONE, smirks, and sits there grinning, gone nowhere.

This is in addition to yesterday’s malfunctions.

I let my Fifth Third Bank credit card expire while we were living outside the country. They authorized a new one without my permission, but I refused to activate it, so for a couple years it sat idle. But Fifth Third, as most the other banks, decided to change their rules before Obama’s new bank controls go into effect, so last December they charged one dollar to my inactive card and labeled the transaction “MINIMUM CHARGE”.

Then when I didn’t pay this unknown $1 charge on my inactivated credit card, they charged me $19 late fee. They did the same thing in January and February. February 22 I discovered this, called, had the charges backed out and cancelled the card.

Six weeks later I find I owe $60. Turns out they forgot to back out $1 so couldn’t cancel my card, so they added another $1 in March and April and another three $19 late charges for February, March and April. So in six weeks they turned their illegal $1 charge on an inactivated unasked-for credit card into $60 — that comes out to around 500% interest a year.

Called again, backed everything out, cancelled card again. We’ll see how the motherfluxers try to weasel out of it this time.

At least common crooks rob with a gun, not like the banks and the corporations and the police and the priests and the politicians and the insurance companies who rob using their ink pens and the law.

On a more interesting note, while we were swimming at the local rec center, I saw an old woman whose face and manner were more interesting than the rest of the old folk. In the sauna she started talking to me – turns out she’s a he who’s halfway through surgically being transformed into a woman — has breasts and a penis. Told me how she was using the woman’s room to change when an old woman got upset and complained to management. So she switched to the men’s room until a 10-year old boy went crying to his mother that a woman was using the men’s room. So the center put a lock on an out-of-the way bathroom and has her change there.

Then after I stop by the Chinese restaurant for some sesame chicken, an old over-weight woman with a hundred years of bad living smeared all over her face suddenly yells at the clerk who’s filling her order that those are small orders of shrimp, she ordered large. Clerk says fine, the large orders will be another $8.49. Customer starts screaming how she’s being ripped off, she’s waited too long, missed her bus, wants the large order without paying more, and finally screams “GIVE ME MY $18 BACK I’M LEAVING.” They do, she does. I’m standing there watching, sadly thinking the woman’s cutting her nose off to spite her face because not only has she lost her hot food and all the time she’s waited for it, but she’s riled herself into unhealthy waters as well. . . and I think back on how many times I’ve been caught in the same self-righteous rage myself and hurt myself and others by my principled anger that accomplished nothing except making life harder for me and those around me. Watching this foul-mouthed unreasonable out-of-control customer was like looking into a mirror at my old self. And what scares me is this old self of mine still lurks within just waiting to be unwittingly released to spew anew.

On a slightly different note, we bought some liquorice Altoids from a small hole-in-the-wall place for $1 a box. And they were delicious, so we bought more yesterday from a different store and the new ones are too strong to enjoy. We compared the two tin boxes they came in – the delicious ones had a sell-by date which had expired four years ago. We figure we’ll have to let these new ones age until 2015 before they’ve decayed enough for us to enjoy.

And finally, we had Lady’s Granny stay over with us over night, and the woman doesn’t know I smoke grass, so I had to walk three flights downstairs to the basement to toke. I get down there, load pipe, take one toke, try to relight and find my lighter has died, so I wearily climb three flights back up on my gimp leg and forgo the whole thing.

On a brighter note, this morning Lady’s not feeling well and I ask her what’s going on. She says she feels bad because of her period, the gray cold weather, the lack of sun. And I add, ‘And living with me.’ “No,” she says, “living with you is a joy.” ‘An almond joy?’ I inquire? “No, more of a cashew/peanut butter joy.” ‘Ah’ I exclaim, ‘you’re saying I’m a bit of a sticky wicket, eh?’

Good days, bad days – the only thing they have in common is they’re all blog fodder. And I’m in training to become the blog father of blog fodder.