I'm driving the estate-sale Cherokee this week because I can't drive anything else in the driveway. Can't work the clutch in the Patriot (yes, it's a stick), can't climb into the Wrangler or The Husband's truck because the bad knee takes the weight on the driver's side. But the Cherokee is actually a pretty sweet ride, all the bells and whistles of its day, even a sunroof, which is the next best thing to the Wrangler with the top down. :)
My knee seems a little better today. I was at my post at 7 a.m. and worked until noon, when I met The Old Boss for lunch. And you know what? I didn't go back to work. At the time I left, I was the only person in the building, so I locked it up tight when I went to lunch. To get in that workspace, whatever time, I have to call maintenance, and somebody has to stop what they're doing and come let me in. They have come to anticipate my morning arrivals, but a mid-day call would irk them. Anyway, by the time I left for lunch, the bad knee was complaining, and so were the right arm, shoulder, and back. I was d-o-n-e DONE.
It was so good to see The Old Boss. We'd missed our last "standing date" for one reason or another, so there was a lot to catch up on. After we'd ordered, she leaned forward and asked, "So, do you want to hear the latest scuttlebutt?" I said,"Sure!"
When she gave up the goods, I said, "Oh. I'd already heard that."
She said, "Where'd you hear it?"
I said, "The Scuttlebutt."
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