This was a funky week. I’m not gonna lie. I’ll share some of the highlights.
Once the city decommissions a vehicle, they can surplus it. They can sell it or scrap it. I got to list it on craigslist and then field calls, emails and visits with the truck. The guys at the shop house and care for the trucks, so they let me know when the potential buyer is headed my way to pay up.
“Susan, Bob is coming your way. ”
Since the last interested party from the week before turned out to be a flake, I was wary.
After some scrambling to get the correct paperwork and get Bob a receipt since he showed up with a huge wad of cash (!), I learned a few things. Get the vessel paid for first, then the title can get signed over. Ta da! Oh, and make sure you have the correct city resolution to go with the WSDOT forms. Whew! Pretty cool to sell a dump truck on my birthday. Hard to top that.
In other news on Wednesday, I got offered the permanent part-time position of projects & purchasing clerk. Positively perfect! I’ve been performing the job for the past 3 months anyway, but had to pass through the proper channels and put in a letter of interest when the position got posted. Pursuing this means that even when the records clerk money peters out, I’ll still have a place to ply my prowess. Enough Ps for ya? I thought so.
Yesterday, I visited Dr. D again for a follow-up appointment on my calf issue. She asked me if I’d been stretching. Yes. She asked if I’d iced it. Yes. .
“Have you been running?” she asked, ice-blue eyes scrutinizing me.
“No,” I said. I almost added “ma’am” but stopped myself just in time.
She had me stand up and turn around. Her blue-gloved hands probed my calves, thighs and ankles.
“Now I’m checking the Achilles,” she told me.
If you say so.
She left the room to print out more stretches for me.
“Can I start running again? It doesn’t hurt anymore,” I said. Please, oh please…
“Yes,” she said. “But the reason it doesn’t hurt anymore is because you haven’t been running.”
She looked at me.
“If it starts hurting again, I will send you to physical therapy.”
Suddenly, due to her Russian accent, PT sounded an awful lot like a gulag in Siberia. Gulp. Don’t wanna do it! You can’t make me! Aaaagh!
I plan to follow the calf heart attack guy’s advice. I’ll let you know how it progresses.
Last but not least, we have the day off. Since tomorrow is Independence Day, today counts as the holiday. I get to go to kettlebells and get my booty kicked by a fellow classmate, subbing for our regular Helga today.
Happy 4th of July to you, dear readers! Now go do something fun. It’s Friday, after all.