So on the way to work after closing at the lawyer's, I get a speeding ticket. Bad news! I got caught in a speed trap that I drove exactly the same way I've been driving it for the last four months. Hell, the last fifteen years. Well, that's not true. It used to be a yield. Now you have to come to a stop just over the crest of a hill, so you have to hope no one's coming and gun it instead of being able to see over the top of the hill as you approach. They had three motorcycle cops there this morning. They'd pulled another person before they finished writing my ticket. Quota time, I guess.
Of course, it was for 50 in a 35. Also of course, no one drives less than 45 on that road. It's four lanes wide, and a main thoroughfare that turns into an interstate. Now I'm going to have to hire a lawyer to contest it because I can't afford my insurance to go up because I just bought a house, doubling my monthly outlay. (That'll be three lawyers recently, BTW. Dad's estate, real estate lawyer for the house, and this one for the traffic offense.)
Of course, Teri thinks that “the rules don't not apply to me”. It's not like she doesn't drive that fast on that road, too, though.
Alright. That's it for this interlude. I'll get back to telling all of you about those other things later. Maybe tonight. I've got a slow software install in front of me.