And back at home...
The gas company woke up my husband on his day off. At 10. Let's all shed a tear for him. Anyhow, the skinny with the gas is that it's all kerflooey. Which we didn't know. Our furnace didn't shut off last night but we just naturally assumed that it was because it's negative 8 billion degrees outside. Well, apparently, the REAL reason is because there's water in the gas lines, "or something," as the helpful gas company man explained. They weren't real sure about much of anything. So we got that going for us.

THEN, the Service Director from the city we live in (a village, actually; and a snooty one at that. We probably have the lowest annual income in the village and are also probably the youngest people living there). Apparently, someone called to complain that our trash cans were on the curb. Where do YOU put your trash cans? When it's trash day, we put them on the curb. Always have since we've lived there (albeit only 6 months). According to the Service Director, this is against a city ordinance. We are supposed to leave them by the garage for pickup. OK. Good to know. We have apparently sullied the appearance of the neighborhood.

I'd like to, just because I'm bitter, propose an ordinance against lawn decorations. Such as, those gigantic, motorized blow up Christmas decorations that appeared this past holiday season. Or geese that have costumes for each month. Or gnomes (sorry Boo -- got nothin' but love for ya). Or those wooden lawn ornaments that are supposed to look like someone's ass crack bending over. Or those deer statues that sometimes make me hit my brakes when I'm driving past. That ought to cover it.

If I'm going down because of my trash cans, you're ALL going down! Every last one of you snooty village people! Ha. Village People.