botheration

Today things are bothering me. But: I am not grouchy about these botherations. (I don't think I'm allowed to put a colon behind a but but: I'm doing it because this is a blog and the wave of the future and the wave of the future doesn't care about grammar.)

Let me revise. I am and am not grouchy about them. I am not grouchy about them in my interactions with people (except for two people), and I am not grouchy about them in my general attitude. It would take many botherations to overcome my happiness at snow on the mountains and a potentially drizzly day. Potentially drizzly days just might be better than drizzly days.

I am grouchy about them in the back of my mind and in this blog-o and in my attempts to resist said botherations.

Number 1. A parking ticket that I shouldn't have received in the first place from a copper who has forgotten that he is also a human, which ticket somehow entered the justice system wrong and now I have late fees I don't deserve.

I just solved the first part of this, but it turns out that the late fees weren't nearly enough percentage of the fine. Rats.

Number 2. A "letter" that is as inhumane as that copper from the Utah State Tax Commission telling me that I owe them more money because mr. HRBlock filled out my taxes wrong. My impulse is to pay without investigating, but this impulse reveals my attitude towards the state botheration machine, which (for lack of understanding) I always assume is honest, accurate, and in my best interest. Today I'm doubting.

Haven't yet figured out how to solve this problem, since I didn't understand my taxes in the first place...hence mr. HRBlock.

Number 3. My front teeth don't touch. My top front teeth do not meet my bottom front teeth in the middle. There is no compromise, no happy medium, no you do your part and I'll do mine. "There's nothing between us. Just air." Why does this matter? Cause it really gets in the way of my incisors incising. I cannot bite things open like tubs of ranch dressing or otterpops. I cannot bite off hangnails (probably a good thing.) I cannot tear into anything that is smaller than the space between my teeth. I feel very vulnerable and handicapped by this problem, and I worry that it might someday get in the way of my survival...natural selection will rule me out, send me and my posterity packing....

I do not know when or how this happened, nor how to solve it. I often forget that it is the case until I try to bite something and feel the frustration of having something just out of reach. AARGH.

Number 4. Today I purchased a carrot snack dipper between classes, and after using my pen to open my tub of ranch, my first dip tasted overwhelmingly like mayonnaise. I know ranch dressing has mayonnaise in it, but this was more like 100 parts mayo, 1 part ranch. I am not okay with that. In a moment of stupidity, I thought it was me and not the dressing, and I tried dipping five more times. Each time--mayonnaise. The near solid consistency should have tipped me off.

Despite the botherations, I love LOVE fall. Cheers.