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Wednesday, July 17, 2002

Even though my friendly postal carrier was kind enough to bring a week's worth of mail to my door Monday, I think I'm still missing one day's post. One of the TV Guide magazines that should have been delivered last week never arrived, and I had to report to Netflix that The Evil Dead was lost.

These are not big problems, since I have little time to watch TV this week anyway. And all Netflix did was record the movie as lost and send me another copy. So the inconvenience is indirect. I can't help wondering what else wasn't delivered that day, and who has it, and if they're merrily filling out credit card applications and signing my name.

Ooh. I scared myself.

When I picked up the company mail at the post office Monday, I stood in line and made the clerk check to see if they'd missed something. I think she thought I was a little obsessive, because I'd already emptied the box. It was almost full, though, and a large check from the State, one I expected to arrive even before I left for vacation, wasn't in it. "Are you sure?" Yes, she was sure.

So I made some phone calls and discovered the check had been cut last Friday. In fact, the staff person I talked to was surprised it didn't get here Monday, because she said checks are always mailed the day they're cut. The Boss, needless to say, was more than upset. He wanted me to look up the code that explained the state's obligations when payments are late. He always wants to "go after" somebody. This payment was late, so we would have to go after the state of California.

The legal codes are written pretty cleverly, though. You have to file a claim first, as soon as the payment is late, and then you have to wait. They have no obligation to pay on time, only to pay interest on late payments. Since we didn't get around to filing a claim, we don't get the interest.

The woman at the state office had already talked to the Boss before I talked to her. She was a bit flummoxed by the way he talked to her. I sort of apologized (as much as one person can for another person they have no control over), and I told her that the problem would go away as soon as the check got here.

That's exactly what happened today. It wasn't mailed Friday at all, but Monday. When I called to tell the Boss the check had arrived, it sounded as if he did a little jig. It's hard to tell over the phone. I'm pretty sure the world will keep going, despite the fact that we got paid a week late. Anyway, it's awfully nice to be able to pay bills again.

Shasta Lake

Girls on their noodles.

I'm starting to get used to wearing all these clothes again. It was hard at first, because I liked sitting around in a bathing suit all day for over a week. That won't work here, even though I'm alone all day and no one (well, except my friendly postal carrier) sees me. The temperature is just too perfect here. I left all that unbearable heat at the lake, and with it the freedom to lounge around with almost nothing on. It's the price I pay for living in the temperate zone.

Of course, it could just be that my clothes don't fit quite as well after ten days of lying around, eating everything in sight.

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