Ugh! ($108,204) (not completely updated)

Went to see my primary care physician this morning.  Got some shots.  Sadly she couldn’t do what I wanted (nothing major, just looking to get a birthmark thing removed, not because I’m concerned about it being something, but because it snags against my clothes and hurts), so I have to go back next week.  The good news is my appointment is a little earlier in the morning, so I shouldn’t have transportation problems.

Today, however, was a different story.  Stopped to get gas.  Thought I was at a SmartPay station, and would save 10 cents a gallon, but realized it wasn’t, so only put in $10.  Drove to a farther train station, because trains ran more there midday.  I’m pretty sure I paid $7 for parking (through my EZ-Pass, which has had $30 on it forever, so I’m not too crushed about this).  Pull in, take my sweet time, don’t know what time it is.  Get to about where the trains are, and see one pulling away.  Damn! But there’s probably another one in like 20-30 minutes.  Wrong. The next one is in an hour, and I would like to get to work at some point today.  The really unfortunate thing is that I easily could have made this train, if I had realized what time it was, and that the trains were getting further and further apart as it got this late.  

Try to go to a subway station with parking.  Get off the exit, follow all the signs…Garage Full.  But this isn’t obvious, so I was about ten minutes trying to establish this.  Resign myself to driving into Boston, and parking at the lovely underground heated garage, and am greatly chagrined at the posted cost. 

So I leave work around 6 (hey at least I stayed 45 minutes later), and go to the garage to get my car and pay.  My firstborn wouldn’t fit in the slot, so instead I was forced to give them $35.  What a waste of money!

 

p.s.  That part in Big Daddy, where Adam Sandler mentions rum to Frankenstein’s friend, and the friend is all “Rumplestiltskin?” and Sandler replies “Rumplestiltskin’s a good man…”  Umm no he certainly is not.

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