I'm still stuck in the Twilight Zone. Maybe there's a hellmouth underneath my apartment building?

I was just taking out the trash, minding my own business, when one of my neighbors (all of my neighbors are weird, have I mentioned that?) asked me if I was into Wicca. Well, anyone can tell by my bumper stickers that I am. I don't go out of my way to hide it, you know? So she says she's a Druid. That she has 'visitors' in her apartment (one is a cat. hmmmmm....). There used to be a house here, she says. I must have had a bad day, because my aura is green. She knows when people are going to die (this must be some new branch of Druidry of which I was previously unaware). She's never heard of Ellen Evert Hopman (local semi-famous druid). I told her that she should put salt over her doorway and windows, and try some grounding exercises. Oh, I do yoga, she says.

*smacks forehead*

Immersing myself in Star Trek now.

OK, today was a real Twilight Zone kind of day. This afternoon, it was getting quite dark out and there were rumblings of thunder, so instead of going out walking, I settled in to catch up on BSG and rewatch the season ender of Lost (all on the same tape). It got so dark, in fact, that I turned on a lamp. As the thunder got closer and the rain started to come down, all of a sudden the lamp went out. The light in the kitchen went out. The computer shut down. But the television was still on. And it stayed on. I continued watching the tape, and about an hour later, all the lights came back on.

Weird.

Later on, the sun actually came out, so I got in a walk after all. Pictured is a lovely little daisy-like flower from Grandmothers' Garden.

I'm still puzzled about the TV. And it seems to be getting dark out again.

Doo doo doo doo...

It's been a little bit on the strange side here today. I had a call from a reader who wanted the name and address of an advertiser who had hauled away his trash, and then dumped it at someone else's house (complete with papers with personal information). All I could give him was the phone number; I mean, he could be *anybody*. I don't give out addresses of advertisers. Then he calls back and says the police want his info. I said that's fine, they can call my manager. He says OK, and hangs up. Weird.

Then I get a call from the state licensing commission (or something along those lines) informing me that all advertisers who state that they perform electrical work *must* have their license number in their ad. This includes the 'handyman' ads. (To backtrack, I had to send a letter to an advertiser the other day stating that he had, indeed, terminated his ad with us. The union was giving him a hard time because of the wording of his ad, and he decided it wasn't worth the trouble and just cancelled it.) Is it just me, or weren't unions originally formed to *help* workers? Just wondering. This state is the worst when it comes to red tape, too. Excuse me, commonwealth. :P

On the fun side, though, I took an ad today for the Harlem Globetrotters. Yes, the Harlem Globetrotters! When you call, they answer the phone: "Harlem Globetrotters, how may I direct your call?" and when they put you on hold, you get that music. You know the music. It's playing in your head now, isn't it? *g* They're putting on a basketball camp in conjunction with the B'ball Hall of Fame (which is here in Springfield). Cool, eh?

Oh, and I took a help wanted ad from a company with which I interviewed a while back, but rejected because they didn't have health insurance. Because the universe has a sense of humor.