As of Monday, the smoke shop is now closing at 6pm (Mon-Sat) until our final day. Boss Lady looked at the hourly sales figures and figured there was no real point being open until 7pm just for two cigarette sales, one newspaper, and maybe a few random snacks. (For reference, cigarettes, newspapers, and lottery all have terrible
profit margins -- 6% for lottery, 7% for cigarettes (assuming you sell at state minimum, which we do), and 6-10% for newspapers.)
More smoke shop news: on Tuesday, the air conditioner's compressor blew out. :-( The landlords called a heat & AC company, but the fix could not be done until Thursday at the earliest because not all the relevant parts were in stock. I got a text from Boss Lady yesterday telling me that we had no AC and I should wear shorts... which confused me slightly, since I wasn't at work today either, and I certainly hope
the problem will be fixed on Friday.
Also, I don't own any shorts. No really. None. I strongly dislike the way tight shorts feel and the way loose shorts look, so I don't wear them. Aside from three years of soccer in high school, I haven't worn shorts since I was twelve or thirteen.
(I don't like tight pants either, FYI. I just really dislike tight fabric around my thighs. It's sweaty and itchy and makes me feel like a dehydrating sausage, and I don't give a shit about trying to look sexy, so why bother flattering my butt and legs if it just makes me want to claw the fabric off and wrap a handy curtain around my waist as a makeshift skirt? /end digression.)
Anyway, I guess I'll discover the state of the air conditioning tomorrow.
I have been gleefully plunging through the archive of Girl Genius
, which I think makes that the third fandom Asuka has (inadvertently) dragged me into. I have also been gleefully plunging through the AO3 fic archive for that series. Spoilers, schmoilers. Who cares! It's fun!
I may say something more coherent about the series once I catch up to the current pages. Or not. But for now, I am enjoying it immensely. :-D
Today I headed up to Cornell to do a couple tiny pieces of research for my dad's encyclopedia project. They're still in the editing phase, and Dad asked if I could find the birthdates of two scientists; one neglected to provide his birthday in a biographical article that he wrote himself
, and also gave his birthplace as a local region name that does not actually have any legal validity; the other they had a year for, but no exact date or place. I was able to find the date and location for the first person, but nothing definite on the latter.
It always fascinates me that there are places that have names, but that aren't towns and/or don't have their own post office or ZIP codes, and don't appear on maps either. For example, near where I grew up, there is a place called Convent Station. It is named after, unsurprisingly, a train station built near a convent. If you say, "I'm going to Convent Station," anyone local will know what you mean... but it's not a town, it has no ZIP code, and generally it has no legal status as a place. Kind of a glorified neighborhood. Anyway, that won't do for an encyclopedia, apparently, since places like that are hard to find and/or verify. (Not being legally incorporated, they presumably cannot hold records like birth certificates.)
I meant to make pot roast yesterday, but I forgot to buy the necessary red wine on my way home from my adult RE program at church in the evening. And then today I forgot again. So I will pick that up tomorrow after work.
In the meantime, I've been working my way through the random leftovers Mom brought. First was a peculiar soup -- vegetarian meatballs in chicken broth with white beans and carrot and cheese and spinach leaves. That made two meals. The white chicken chili also made two meals. Now I am eating some baked chicken with a weird breading, supplemented by broccoli I bought myself and steamed tonight. And after that
, there's some kind of pork in broth; I don't remember the details.
I find it amusing that Mom apparently thinks I would starve and/or get scurvy if she didn't supplement my diet now and then. Or maybe it's just that, even years later, she's still used to cooking for four instead of for two, and enjoys giving leftovers to family. (Hmm. I should ask Vicky if she gets leftover deliveries as well, or if Mom thinks she can handle her own cooking. Vicky, unlike me, actually enjoys cooking for its own sake instead of regarding it as an annoying and tedious interval that separates being hungry from being able to eat dinner.)