Okay, so having committed a banking error, somewhat along the same lines as my dear Emily, my day is bad. September 11 has a way of being bad everytime it has rolled around since 2001. "Let's roll right on over to September 12," is always my first thought on this auspicious day. But back to the banking error. For many of us, this problem would be solved by simply stopping by the nearest branch and depositing more funds, or claiming our online banking privileges and transferring some funds around. Since I live in the really-Interior, a few more steps are involved.
For me, it involves leaving work early (in a library where the love of my life is looking intense as he studies away, accumulating facts to impress me with), getting a steaming cup of coffee, going home to pick up the last paycheck from my old job, grabbing my CD case, filling up the gas tank and heading on down the road to Memphis and actually depositing funds into the night depository, making a u-turn on Highway 64, and then driving right back here. A round trip total of 3 hours, and that doesn't include bathroom breaks (small bladder and all). You see, I bank with a national--nay, an international--financial institution that I could access from Zimbabwe, but not West Tennessee. (My other option was Nashville, but that makes the trip 5 hours. Seriously.)
Some luxuries of Exterior living I can do without, but not this one. NOT this one. Surely in the internet age, I can rely on deposits and withdrawals to go through as scheduled. Surely I can rely on the direct deposit to do its thing. But when things go wrong...well, then I have to leave work early (away from Beautiful Dream Boy), get a cup of coffee, go home to grab the funds, grab the CD case, fill up the gas tank, head on down the road to Memphis, deposit funds in the night depository, make a u-turn on Hwy 64, and drive home again.
I want to go home.
Currently NOT listening to Happy Woman Blues.