My Incredibly Unremarkable Life
A Journal (more or less)


Dolly Parton and Popeye's
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I decided that Popeye's could privide me with two suppers--the two-piece light meat for tonight and the red beans and rice for tomorrow.

When I got home I discovered that I'd gotten the Dolly Parton of chickens. I don't think I've ever seen a chicken breast as big as today's. I am not complaining, of course, but I couldn't eat it all at one sitting.

I got my phone back to ringing. It seems that I somehow turned the volume down just by holding it not quite right--with a finger on the volume control. This evening I'll try (again) to return a call from my neighbor.

This morning was not a good day on the interstate. A couple of miles before the I-10/I-610 split, the radio carried the happy news that there had been an accident that had a) closed I-610 (two lanes) AND one lane (of three) of I-10. When I finally made it to the clog I discovered that it wasn't two full lanes--more like one and two-thirds.

Generally speaking, people were taking turns. What other choices are there?

This afternoon I was merrily headed home, in the far left lane, with a humongous truck on my right. Then I heard a siren and saw red lights behind me. I crossed my fingers, sped up, and moved over to in front of the truck. I ended up cutting in sooner than I normally do. I could see the bottom of the truck's windshield, and since my car is tall, obviously he could see me. And was paying attention.

On the work front, I have finally finished the initial processing of the current collection. This means that I've removed staples and paper clips (replacing them with cute little assorted color clips called Plasticlips) and am ready to get all the stuff into nice archival folders (no acid content) and then type up the inventory of each of the five carton. That will probably take me two days.

And this morning I caused a campus cop to have to get on his bicycle and see why the alarm for the Center building went off.

My finger slipped when I was punching in the alarm code. I explained that to the cop (after he shut it off) and he took notes for his report. He asked my name, and wanted to see my Tulane ID. I told him I didn't have Tulane ID--that I was a volunteer. I also showed him my keys, and told him not only my alarm code but the generic one for the building.

He called over to report that the problem was solved, was an error (probably 99% of those are) and that I (and he gave my name) was the one who did it and he'd verified my identity--by Tulane ID.

I guess he figured I looked harmless and that was the easy way. He offered to set the door so it would stay unlocked, but I told him I knew how to do that and I usually waited till about 9 AM to unlock it completely.

I rather doubt that anyone will check to see if I really do have a Tulane ID.

When the archivist arrived I told her about it.

The Tulane campus cops get around by bicycle (very intelligent) and as a result are in pretty good shape. When I was there they didn't use bicycles and most of the cops looked like going faster than a moderate walk would bring on a heart attack.

I think it's time now to get back to that piece of chicken.


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