So today was an interesting day. I finally unpacked, though there is still an explosion of my shit everywhere. Maybe tomorrow it will get a tad more organized. Maybe. I dropped off paperwork to get paid a possible s-ton of money, so we shall have to see. Then I dinked around for awhile killing time because San Antonio traffic sucks. A lot. And I had to go a ways out of town to get my desk. So I looked at a furniture store that basically had my dream living room set and an entertainment set with a 50" flat screen for 2 grand. I was drooling. I wanted it so bad. Nevermind the fact that it probably wouldn't even fit in my tiny living room. Oh well. It was bee-ee-ay-utiful. Le sigh.
So I go to get this desk and its in a swanky subdivision full of ridiculously priced ginormous homes and I go up and its a younger guy and his stuck up wife. He was cool. She...not so much. He tells me the story of this desk. It was supposedly built by a friend of his fathers like 30 or 40 years ago, and the guy has been dead for at least 25 years. So its old. Its big. I like it. It has character. The guy said he basically used it most of his life but that his wife was making him get rid of it because she didn't like it. She thought it was ugly. Whatever. So the guy helps me load it into my truck and off I go. I'm happy with my purchase. 50 bucks well spent. So I get to the store because I had to pick something up and I look at the desk, now turned on its side and notice something odd. 3 stickers. One under each bottom leg and one under the top itself. The newish looking stickers say 'made in the phillipines' followed by some numbers and a bar code. Now. I may not be the smartest guy in the world. In fact, for as smart as I am, I do some pretty dumb shit occasionally. But even I, dumb smart guy, can figure that this guy just took me. I mean, really? Made in the Phillipines. With a bar code. On new stickers. I was trying to justify it by saying that maybe the old guy used pieces from other stuff that maybe had the stickers on it or something, but then I think that there is a very small chance that they used bar codes like that and stickers on things that were 'hand-made- back in the 70s. Maybe I'm wrong and this guy was telling the truth, but somehow I sincerely doubt it. And I'm still ok with my purchase. I like the desk. I'm sitting at it right now, as a matter of fact. But did he really have to make up a story to go with it? I was excited about that part. But now I have to believe that it was probably some 8 year old kid in the phillipines with bleeding fingers making 8 cents an hour.
And then it hits me...this is my karma. Sooooooo, the grodie bed I bought the other day. I sold it. The next day. And I maybe sold it for the original price that was asked of me, but that I did not pay. I maybe made a small profit on the bed. Soooooo, its possible that was my karma on dishonest craigslisting. I learned my lesson. Hopefully its over. Either way I still love my desk and I don't have that nasty ass bed in my place anymore.
So on to tonight. I made an epic dinner. Flank steak with a cumin/salt/pepper rub, cooked to medium rare. Cilantro/garlic/lemon juice/salt/cayenne/oil drizzly sauce on top. And asparagus sauteed with salt and garlic. It was a-mazing. I have a happy tummy and an angry kitchen. I made a mess and now I have to clean it up. Blech. Oh well. I have awesome leftovers now.
My PT test is coming up soon. I need to work out. I took yesterday off, and its looking like I am taking today off too. Damn. Can't afford to do that or I will be packing my bags quick. Nah. I ran a 5k in 24 minutes the other day. So I should be good. I just hate PT tests. With a passion. But I need to learn to love them in the next two days. I can't worry about it though. That doesn't help. So I won't. Instead, I am going to clean a little and then go to bed in my oh-so-wonderfully cozy comfy bed.
Night peeps.
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