Wunce agane NJ Transit fale us

What apparently happened was, a car got stuck on a crossing. The local fuzz was dispatched to the scene, and they tried to contact NJ Transit dispatch and warn the train, but didn't do so in time. So our train hit the car. (The driver was well out of it.) We sat there for a very long time while the wreckage got cleared away, etc., and then they said we should be moving "momentarily."

Then they said, oops, no, have to wait for the NJ Transit cops to get there and view the scene. (What scene?! It was all cleared away!) They come from Newark, mind you, and it was anticipated they would be arrive in 45 minutes, and then we would be allowed to proceed. Or else we would be transferred to the 11:50 train, which was due by in...45 minutes. As it happened, the transit cops got there first, and we proceeded on a mere hour late. Bah.

And why couldn't five cop cars' worth of strapping policemen just push the fucking car off the tracks? Good question.

To add perfect joy, Steve had to get up early this morning because he has an offsite meeting about two hours away. (Which meant I had to wake up early, too.)

Other than that, it was a reasonably good evening, full of zombie pirates. We were surprised at how much fun the movie was, considering the premise (!), but not only that, they actually did some research on the era. They club-hauled a ship...and used the correct term for it. (This occasioned some hilarity, because as they began the maneuver, I pointed out "Hey, they're going to club-haul the ship!" Immediately following which, the pirate captain bellowed, "Arr! They be club-hauling!" *smug smug smug*)

Today's burning question

There are sugar-free candies galore. Why are there no sugar-free nice, sour lemon drops? The only lemon ones I can find are nasty-sweet. Feh.

Steve is stuck in traffic with the car, and I can't go to the sewing at Daria's until he's back, so I'm turning my progesterone powers to good by housecleaning like a fiend. I really do prefer to do this when home alone from a function perspective, though of course after several iterations I get the I'm-doing-all-the-work annoyance, but at least then I know it's done MY WAY. Oh dear God, I am becoming Mom. Shoot me. Please! It'll be a mercy killing.

The sole exception to the above is, of course, sweh, who Works Well Without Supervision, and is more meticulous than me, and knows where I want everything, and all sorts of other wonderful things. *happy sigh*

The above should not in the least be construed by any Gentle Readers as a discouragement to do a bit of picking-up should they feel inclined. :) I'm that way about the cleaning lady too. Merely psycho ramblings. Move along.

I'm just about done save for unloading Lake Dishwasher; after that, I will either settle down to pad-stitching or else see about finishing the chemise I started, oh, er, two years ago. Probably the latter; I only have one 14th-c.-ish chemise, it's six years old, and looks it.