May 11th, 2016

red-eyed goujun by _mrowr @ muffyface

Chronicles of Fail

Have been mildly worried about the failure of my insurance cheque to clear. Contacted the broker twice, was told first time that yes they'd received the cheque, and the second that yes they'd cashed it and all was good to go. But still it didn't show up in my online statements, and I was getting tired of reminding myself that that balance was actually 'minus $350.' At last decided I must jump through the Royal's telephone hoops and find out what was going on. I leave my chequebooks lying about the way I leave my hats, and write cheques from whichever one first comes to hand, so tracking down a number can be an iffy proposition. But I hoped the one I'd written the insurance cheque in was still where I wrote it two months ago, on the front room table. And it was, and I'd noted the cheque number for a change, and I was girding my loins to call when I suddenly saw what was written at the top of the chequebook: Bank of Nova Scotia. I'd written it to my line of credit. Did I notice it on my last credit statement? No, of course not.

Went to pump my tires this morning. I have little lights screwed to the valaves- skulls, actually, but they light up nicely. Started to unscrew the skull from the rear wheel and it wouldn't unscrew. Turned harder and heard a sighing noise. Had broken the valve clean from the tube. Walked it to the bike shop two blocks away and miraculously the guy was able to fix it right away. Rode back home and clearly didn't use my brakes, because when I was tooling off to shop later the brakes didn't catch. Took it back to the shop and asked if he could tighten the brake up. Which he did, or tried to do, but said it was hard to get at the brake mechanism with my carrier in the way. The boss of the bike shop had made my brakes feather-touch last fall, but assistant is not the boss. And though the boss was there, he was in a grumpy mood and not inclined to help. (Boss has a very on-and-off again relation to reality.) So I must haul on the brakes if I want to stop my bike- and of course, every other bike shop in this town can't promise anything better than 'tomorrow by six, maybe.'
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