The karma bank suffered another withdrawal last night, when Mr H & I were sitting in the car, minding our own business, kvetching about the snarled mess that is city peak hour traffic. I heard the horrible sound of metal against metal and turned to look out my window - all I could see was the side of an bus about 3 inches from my face. Some poor schmuck trying to squeeze by us to make a left turn slightly misjudged the distance, however he left lovely city bus blue stripe down the length of the car along with a crease that will probably cost a thousand dollars to get fixed. Oh, and the AU$10.50 to get my pants cleaned, because I soiled myself. It could have been worse I suppose (you forgot that prompt there Yurgi).Dinner at a nice restaurant, a few glasses of champers and the symphony soothed our nerves and we even stayed up past 9 PM, just like grown ups!
Part of my job description is "diary mangement.*. Yesterday someone I shall refer to as Mrs Snooty hyphen Posh rang to arrange a meeting between her boss and mine. It is the first time I've ever spoken to Mrs Snooty-Posh, and I must say, it was super speaking to her. I can envision many free frosty adult beverages floating my way as payment for regaling my friends with imitations of Mrs Snooty-Posh and her mannerisms. (eh wot? tally ho!).
Well, I am off to remind Mr H that he promised to take me to the v, v expensive furniture store's warehouse sale as I am in search of a chair that doesn't look like it it is a cast off from some bloke's party room.
* nb: edited after Mr H pointed out to me that managing a dairy is a bit different from managing a diary.I honestly don't see much difference.