A Book of Rogues and Imposters

The actual proper panic re: going back to school today hit last night. I think I got maybe four hours of light doze. >.>

Interestingly, I had a summer class with this professor a few years ago--that one was on the interaction between science and religion, while this one's the history of science from roughly 1500 to roughly 1900 (emphasis on European, as he teaches another class on US science development).

I may have reintroduced myself to his hindbrain by finding a typo in his syllabus. >.> He took it well, though.

*

I owe my landlord a 1099 form (for Canadians, this is a form that the revenue service Likes To See for any independent income amounting to over $500), because the business is paying slightly over half of the monthly rent on the house.

As such, I need a govermentally acknowledged identifying number for my landlord. Unfortunately, my landlord appears to be playing the 'if I don't acknowledge it, it doesn't exist' game. Which means I can't mail out the carbon copies of the group of 1099s to the IRS. My unimpressed face, let me show you it.

*

In more snerkworthy news, I was yesterday mistaken for an employee at Nordstroms while coat hunting with the roommate. (Again, for Canadians, think something like a department store sized Smart Set, or The Bay)

Admittedly, I was wearing a knee length pinstriped light gray skirt, black leather knee high flat boots and a 3/4 sleeve gray turtleneck with the sleeves folded up to the elbow, with my hair up in a knotted bun. I'd been trying on coats, so my coat (with wallet and phone, etc in the pockets) was in the veggie's hands.

The bits worth snerking over? The turtleneck was from Old Navy (cheap knockoffs of a semi-rival department store), the skirt from JC Penny (hail $30 jeans and skirts), and the boots from Moscow. As in the November, 2000 trip to Russia. Nothing I was visibly wearing was younger than a year. Also both my tattoos were showing (although the right one was mostly obscured by a wrist brace).

And I got politely asked by a middle aged lady if I worked for a nice department store. Bwahahaha. (I totally thanked her for it, too, after telling her sorry, no. :D ) This is going to keep me entertained for months.

Well, hell.

Went to visit the parents this weekend, to start getting training for the new job, discuss options, and to measure for the space the business will need vs. what I have available. (Tangentally--boy mine? Dad apparently approves. Go figure.)

I could fit the business into the dining and living rooms with file storage upstairs. But it wouldn't be slotting or arranging nearly so much as shoehorning. And whoever help me if the cat goes skating across a desk like my mother keeps. (Radish? You're getting MYOB training from me or from dad, or through experimentation with the system documentation. Mom is waaay too scattered to mesh with you.)

Of course I realise this right after we've finally got the Damn Bookshelves* up and solid, and the library unpacked.

Apparently September is the Month of Changes, this year.



*: inherited from my parents. They're heavy, unwieldy, but mostly far too large to fit through the door so had to be disassembled through both brad nails and glue before actually being installed.