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As Mad as a Hatter
I just seem to be getting nowhere with all those grand plans to start squiggling again.
This month is no different.
I had my bank do a Justin Trudeau on me. It blocked my debit card arbitrarily.
Or more likely, an algorithm in Mad Eye Moody mode that just suddenly assumed that every transaction is dodgy.
I mean that may be reasonable if I were using ATMs in Paris, New York or even Sydney. But not at the bank ATMs that I use week after week.
Not only did I have to alter all my plans to go out of my way to visit the CBD branch, pretty much the only one left these days but then had to queue for the teller and pay a $2.50 fee for the privilege.
That was just the last straw.
Problem is, that to open a new account elsewhere required assorted documents including a current passport.
But that was in the bedroom I'd accidentally locked myself out of AND lost the spare key. The original I had accidentally left in the room which is how I got into the mess in the first place.
So after wasting hours looking for the spare key which was not where I usually kept it and attempting to open the door with bits of plastic as featured in assorted YouTube videos, I bit the bullet and called a locksmith who got the door open in just over 5 minutes.
So within an hour of getting back in my room I was on the bus to the bank with the precious passport.
I'd been in Constant Vigilance mode ever since the bank started their mindfuckery.
But when I took the passport out to show the bank clerk, I realised it was the old one that had expired in 2013.
That was absolutely the last straw.
I could have gone back to the Lair to get the current one but figured to just get the hell out, go to work (I already rang to say I'd be running late) and then go straight home to bed.
Especially after getting sushi for lunch, paying but then forgetting to take the box with me then getting out my dodgy bank card instead of my bus card.
Lucky I was able to just do brain dead zombie stuff at work since I'd done a giant cull and restock of the book shelves on Monday.
I am beginning to suspect that my lack of squiggling could also be screwing up the ancient Gray cells. It's my main way of processing and dealing with drama
This month is no different.
I had my bank do a Justin Trudeau on me. It blocked my debit card arbitrarily.
Or more likely, an algorithm in Mad Eye Moody mode that just suddenly assumed that every transaction is dodgy.
I mean that may be reasonable if I were using ATMs in Paris, New York or even Sydney. But not at the bank ATMs that I use week after week.
Not only did I have to alter all my plans to go out of my way to visit the CBD branch, pretty much the only one left these days but then had to queue for the teller and pay a $2.50 fee for the privilege.
That was just the last straw.
Problem is, that to open a new account elsewhere required assorted documents including a current passport.
But that was in the bedroom I'd accidentally locked myself out of AND lost the spare key. The original I had accidentally left in the room which is how I got into the mess in the first place.
So after wasting hours looking for the spare key which was not where I usually kept it and attempting to open the door with bits of plastic as featured in assorted YouTube videos, I bit the bullet and called a locksmith who got the door open in just over 5 minutes.
So within an hour of getting back in my room I was on the bus to the bank with the precious passport.
I'd been in Constant Vigilance mode ever since the bank started their mindfuckery.
But when I took the passport out to show the bank clerk, I realised it was the old one that had expired in 2013.
That was absolutely the last straw.
I could have gone back to the Lair to get the current one but figured to just get the hell out, go to work (I already rang to say I'd be running late) and then go straight home to bed.
Especially after getting sushi for lunch, paying but then forgetting to take the box with me then getting out my dodgy bank card instead of my bus card.
Lucky I was able to just do brain dead zombie stuff at work since I'd done a giant cull and restock of the book shelves on Monday.
I am beginning to suspect that my lack of squiggling could also be screwing up the ancient Gray cells. It's my main way of processing and dealing with drama