Don’t Do Me Like That
I gotta tell you, the last week in February was one abhorrent week, a week that should have ended on the 28th. But, no, due to it being leap year, it continued being abhorrent as it dragged on until the 29th. It was one of those weeks where I wish I could have simply pressed Control, Alt, Delete and start all over again.
Why was it abhorrent, you ask? Well, I’m glad you asked; let me tell you my tale of woe: The week started out with a plunge of the stock market, the likes of which this nation has never before seen. Then, it continued with the spread of the dreaded Corona virus, around the world and all across the fruited plains. And I’m not talking about beer, folks; I wish I was.
Next, came news from the weather prognosticators that California had just experienced the highest average February temperatures in recorded history, and that the state is in the midst of a new drought cycle and the polar icecaps are melting at a record pace. Folks, believe me (and Bernie), we all gotta get electric cars, solar panels and stop using so dang much water. To save water, the mantra of this new decade is “Shower With A Friend.” (Don’t tell my wife I said that, or she’ll clobber me again with her Valentine’s Day ironing board.)
But, that’s not all. To end the abhorrent week, my bank, the bank I’ve been banking with for over 40 years, added insult to injury by refusing to let me deposit my wife’s signed paycheck because it had her maiden name (Tetley) on it. Never mind that our joint checking account and all of our checks have her married name (Motley) on them, the bank refused to budge, even though she and I have been depositing her checks into the account for over 40 years. They said something to the effect that they should have stopped us from doing that a long time ago.
“You better watch your step, or someone’s gonna get hurt. Someone’s gonna tell you lies, cut you down to size. Don’t do me like that. Don’t do me like that. What if I love you, baby? Don’t do me like that.” (“Don’t Do Me Like That” – Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers – 1979)
But wait, there’s more. The final insult was when I went to the local dump to take photos of their newly refurbished toll booth and resurfaced traffic lanes for an article and I was told by the dump foreman that I couldn’t take pictures without permission from the Department of Public Works. Never mind that I had done the same thing last year for an article on the launching of their construction project, without being intercepted by management.
“Someone’s gonna tell you lies, cut you down to size. Don’t do me like that. Don’t do me like that.”
I keep pressing Control, Alt, Delete, but the last week in February still won’t go away.
Keep it flyin’ Uncle Mott