I spent the whole day being bothered! (minus a few opportune moments of sipping poisonous coffee at pretend-to-be-all-that-so-we-can-charge-you-your-retirement-savings-for-a-miniscule-latte Starbucks, and dog-paddling in my therapeutic pool class for crippled people, where I floated rather than swam and was out of sync with the class and required special guidance like in Spain during my futile-but-bravo attempts at Flamenco!)
With sword in toe, numchucks in purse and steam coming out of my ears, I fought bankers, credit card companies and salesmen, all in one day!
I called the mortgage banker (mortgage means “death” – die bankers!) using my Fred Flintstone flip go-phone with duct tape on the back due to the battery falling out, and got cut off several times! And it was NOT because of my 1-hectare-coverage go-phone! After losing the battle of shaving 2 painstakingly boring hours off of a process that I insisted was inefficient (they are bankers! What do they have to do all day but collect mula and sit in their marshmallowy chairs with banker butt imprints), I redirected my efforts elsewhere!
World War III was just getting started when I went to the store to return the smart phone I bought on an impulse 2 days ago because I was mad at the Tax Assessor (another “don’t bother me story!). The snazzy jazzy salesman with his crisp white shirt and shadowy black tie (perhaps he was a Mormon) approached me with his up-to-no-good tactics. I refused to let him talk me out of returning the phone, even though it is much smarter than mine. I want to be in the dark ages, where people don’t bother me!