Yesterday I had an appointment to take about twenty in-various-stages-of-empty paint cans to the city. I'd had to make the appointment online twice, because the first appointment had to be cancelled due to my last business trip to New York.

Beloved really wanted those paint cans out of the garage. And because I know if I do this for him, he will finish the arch in the kitchen I love him, I willingly and endearingly agreed to do it.

Of course, the appointments are only in the middle of the workday.

Of course, they are located in bizarre and hard-to-find areas on the edge of hell.

Of course, they are staffed with burly men in bright orange t-shirts who wear mirrored fuck you sunglasses and won't take your even close to empty paint cans even though that can't possibly be good for the environment.

They gave me back half my paint cans! They didn't even open them to see if they were all the way empty!

Me: So can I recycle these here?

Them: No.

Me: What am I supposed to do with them?

Them: Take the lids off and throw them away.

Me: Seriously?

Them: Yes.

Me: !

Them: .

Me: Okay, do you have a dumpster here?

Them: No.

Me: You are seriously going to make me put these back in my car and drive them home to take up half of my garbage can after I brought them all the way across town to be recycled properly?

Them: Yes. Next, please!

I got back in Beloved's truck. The air conditioning doesn't work in his truck. I was wearing jeans. And the heat of my sudden, irrational, mind-bending rage was also keeping me warm.

I have no sense of direction and the GPS was hanging from the cigarette heater thingie and I couldn't hear it with the windows down, so of course I made a wrong turn and ended up getting lost on the way home from the edge of hell. I pulled into a large industrial parking lot to turn around, and ...

I spent about five minutes turning furious cookies in Beloved's truck.

Then I drove home, got the garbage can off the curb, tossed the paint cans in and went back to work.

Beloved brought me Culver's and took the little angel away for two hours so I could finish working. I have no doubt my chances for that arch are very, very good.

Just don't tell him about the cookies.