Good morning to y’all. So far, it’s sunny. Ever the optimist, Mom has a load in the washer. Let’s have a good one, mmmkay?
I came out of the bedroom after I finished assuming my human shape. Mom picked her phone up and gravely tells me she received a voicemail and it concerns me, so I need to sit down and listen to it. My mind automatically jumps straight into emergency alert mode and assumes someone back home is dead. Nope, nothing that pleasant. It’s just Brian’s uncle, who is confused about an email. He’s insisting there’s a problem again, and he’s never going to get his birth certificate.
Mom calls him and puts him on speaker so I don’t need to talk to him directly. He’s gone full Eeyore. He can’t figure anything out and didn’t know what he should do. Vital records emailed and needs more information from him, what does he do? Mom asked him what they email said. Oh, he doesn’t know, he hadn’t opened it. We have him read the email, and eventually figure out the email was from Sunday’s trip over. They don’t need more information.
But can we come over anyway?
He launched into a woe-is-me whine-fest. It took him forever, bit he was finally able to get into his email, but it wasn’t the way he usually does, but he did it. He still can’t log into Facebook, and he really misses Facebook. He’s only 10 minutes away, so we went over after lunch.
Directions to his house included the phrase “take a left at the fireworks stand”. Arriving at his house was the start of the downhill portion of the day. First, I couldn’t get out of the truck. The door won’t open. It’s locked and won’t unlock. I can’t even manually move the latch. I had to crawl over the seats and go through the passenger side. The door had given me trouble once last week and wouldn’t unlock, but I eventually got into it. This time, nothing. Won’t budge.
Whatever, I’ll figure that out after we get Uncle’s issues fixed. Five minutes later, I’m logged into both his Facebook and email. I bookmark them and add them to his bookmark menu bar. Then I made a mistake. The bookmark bar isn’t visible, so I changed that setting.
Who knew a man of such phenomenally little brain power could manage to not only search for porn, but bookmark it? Granted, he’s bookmarked the search results, but still. I didn’t need that.
We left, with him happy enough with both Facebook and email logged in. Three hours later, he’s lost them AGAIN! He calls in a tizzy because he’s frustrated. He’s logged into both in one browser, but not in the other. I get him into Facebook again, but the page looks different. “It’s bigger”, he tells me. “I’ll play with it and see if I can make it work”.
I went outside and spun poi for a little while. I can’t handle this. Between trying to figure out where to get my truck fixed and the horror of a bookmarks labeled “SELF CATHETERIZATION” and “BUT WHY DOES HE EAT THE CUM”, I’m done.
It’s nearly 10am and we haven’t received any phone calls yet. I’m going to go out on makeup and try to find a repair shop.
