No, not Mike Vick. Former state senator John Ford will spend 66 months in jail. He is 65 and will be 70 when he is released. Oh, let me back up. Sen. Ford has another trial to face in September, in Knoxville, so heaven only knows when he'll finally get to jail and how old he will be upon release. The government failed in its quest to take the $70K Rolex he received during the sting. While they speak to his arrogance, Ford is given high marks for the services he delivered to his constituents over his 31 years in the state legislator. Accordingly, his service played a key role in the sentencing arrangements.
Turn in the school board apps on Tuesdays, I was told. That is the only day we fingerprint. Well, golleee, I could have taken my own set of fingerprints (which I started to do and decided against) with me. They were too busy to fingerprint me. Come back any day before 11 or after 1 p.m. Yes'um. I just absolutely hate the job-hunting process. You feel as though you are begging for an opportunity--and you are. But you just slog around, big ### grin on your face, trying to get your foot in the door for the most mundane, mediocre jobs and to no avail. My arrogance is showing. Something will break.
In the meantime, I'm still breaking down boxes. Did I mention that I finally found my turntable? I knew that with a box full of albums, the turntable had to be in the house. Not that I'm ready to set up music yet but since its mine, I want it present and accounted for. Why is it taking you so long to unpack boxes, Missy? I'm throwing out and putting away. Those items that can't be displayed need to be carefully repacked; genealogy stuff, newsletter stuff, etc., all needs to be sorted and grouped. I hear you, SF, but I'm not throwing my stuff away. Now, the person who goes through my things when my time is down can throw it in the Mississippi River. They won't mean anything to them anyway. I'll be like the photograph of the church member on the thrift store wall. Nobody knows anything and could care less. Something tells me that I am going to have to play hardball with the moving company to recoup money for damages. I hope not. Just send the check for crying out loud.
Good news. My foyer light is being replaced for free! Hot dog! Mr. Cannon is happy and so am I.
Humongous crash in the area outside of my bedroom. Not sure if it is the living room, hallway, porch, what, but my heart is in my mouth. I refuse to sit scared to death, however, and start to inspect. To be sure, the sun is just starting to set so I can see clearly. Mz. G, the "braveheart." Make my tour of the house, can't find a thing. Now I am not crazy. All the doors are locked. You need a ladder to get to the attic. No ladder is propped. Something fell. What? A brass pot on the mantle decided it was time to fall, hitting the heater below, creating that metallic crash. Been sitting there a while though. Hmmm.