For real this time

Five months ago, the Wife and I decided to move our Roth IRAs from one bank to another. When dealing with large corporations and money, a certain amount of red-tape I expect. I did not, however, anticipate a certain institution–rhymes with Bunk of America–would be such a…ah, never mind. Slurs betrays my bad breeding.

The long and short of it, we had to cash out the Roth, and have a check cut, deposit the check, then have a bank check drawn up for the new place.

Wow. Just writing all that makes me tired.

Count out

Train wreck: see also my week. But this a great improvement over the last. And the drama is leveling off at the day job. That is to say, it’s gone from twenty crises an hour, to just a few per day. Though one or two prove halfway serious. Otherwise, it’s almost so quiet I can sip water between phone rings.

Lunches missed this week: two.
Vacation wished for: none.
Sick days should have exercised: one.
Times cursed at doctors: six.
Number of curses spewed at no specific individual: lost track.