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Ever since we subscribed to the Sunday Sacramento Bee in November, we've had delivery problems. In fact, I was surprised if we actually got a paper on Sunday mornings. We'd get it one week, and then not the next. Or we'd receive it two weeks in a row, and then miss one. Every time we had no delivery we would report it, get a credit for it and then go buy one from the newsstand because Yuba City does not have same day re-delivery. Somewhere around Christmas, we essentially stopped receiving a Sunday paper. Every week we called to report non-delivery. Two weeks ago, spouse called and spoke to the delivery supervisor, who apologized profusely and said the problem would be fixed that week.

Last week, I had no newspaper. We reported it.

This morning, I have no newspaper.

And as of five minutes ago, I no longer have a subscription to the Bee.
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Speaking of petty annoyances, Cingular supposedly mailed us a refund check December 21. On January 10, I reported I hadn't received it. "Wait another week." Okay. On January 17, I reported I hadn't received it. Cingular was supposed to send a claim package to report the lost check. I haven't received that either. Yesterday I called for the third time about this issue. "Can't you just send me the replacement check?" No, they can't just issue me a replacement check, they have to send the claims package. "Well, send it! I want my $75.00!"

Grrrr.

I found a fabulous-sounding pasta recipe on epicurious.com which called for a cup of dry red wine. We generally don't keep wine or liquor in the house, so I went to the grocery store. I had to pick up a few other things anyway.

Today I discovered that grocery stores in Arkansas don't sell wine. Beer, yes. Not wine. Okay, I can deal with that.

After purchasing the other items, I went down the street to a liquor store. I haven't been in a liquor store in years. I had forgotten how overwhelming they are with row after row after rack after rack of wine. I ventured only a few steps into the store, picked up one or two bottles off an endcap display, but decided they were too pricey for what I had in mind. So I turned to the young man behind the counter.

"I don't drink." He gives me a look that says Why are you here, then? He's handsome, so I forgive him. "I need a dry red wine for a recipe. It has to be something my husband won't turn up his nose at because he'll end up drinking the rest of the bottle. And I don't want to spend a fortune."

"Ah," says he. He is very handsome. And young. And hunky. "I have just the thing." Off he goes to the back of the store. I follow his handsome young hunky backside down the aisle. He picks up a Central Coast cab priced at $8.00 and hands it to me. "Very drinkable. I'm sure your husband will like it." Husband. Oh yeah.

"Great," says I. Purchase made, mission accomplished, back home I go. 'Bye bye, handsome young hunky liquor store guy.

I put the groceries away and begin the search for the corkscrew. After digging through the drawers a bit, I find the corkscrew. Remove the metal protective label, insert tip of corkscrew, turn, turn, turn, pull! Umm, pull! Crud. Lower the bottle and hold against my body for more leverage and pull! I said, pull! Crud again. Put bottle between knees, lean back against counter and pull! Pull! Crudsickles. Stupid cork. It won't budge. I'm afraid if it will break if I apply any more inexpert opening maneuvers on the blasted thing. I guess I won't have a fabulous pasta dish waiting for spouse when he gets home. He'll have to be home and uncork the silly wine before I can cook.

Way back when I was a drunk, this was why I bought wine in screw-top bottles.

Will someone please explain to me why my clueless procrastinating beloved husband folds the laundry ever so neatly and then places said ever-so-neatly-folded laundry back in the laundry basket instead of putting it in the dresser where it belongs?