Not to beat a dead horse with a broken record, but sheesh. Enough with the rain already.

On the other hand, I think I have it arranged so that I don’t have to leave the house again until at least Tuesday, so let it pour. My last outing of 2005 took me to the post office, because I had something that needed to go out, and the bank, because I had something that needed to go in. If the Boss hadn’t suddenly decided at seven o’clock last night that we needed another three thousand showing in our checking account, I would have made only one stop today.

If only I hadn’t had to wade out through the mud to get to my mailbox this afternoon, I would have been warm and cozy after I got back from my errands. And if I hadn’t waited until after five o’clock, when it was nearly dark, I could have seen where I was walking. Not that it mattered, since I couldn’t have avoided the deep mud even if I’d known where I was going. The worst part of this episode was that there was no mail! Except for a bunch of ads, and I’m not going anywhere to do any shopping until the rain stops, even if it takes until May.

Since I didn’t hear from the Boss today, even after leaving him a message pleading for some information I need to close out the books for the year, I assume he’s busy digging out of the mud himself. Either that, or he forgot to check his messages again. Whatever. At least I didn’t have a lot of his mindless busywork to do and could concentrate on my own mindless busywork.

Ah, New Year’s Eve. I haven’t been invited to any parties that I have to think of a way of getting out of going to. I’ll have no desire to be out on the road with all the amateur drinkers tomorrow night, so I have no problem staying home alone and watching Dick Clark totter out on Ryan Seacrest’s arm to ring in the rockin’ new year one more time. The only problem with that is, here on the west coast we get a taped version three hours after it happens. It takes a little of the mystery out of the changeover.