Not as complete a post as I would wish

My duck spree continues, though I figured it was high time to update this blog--just to keep in practice.
Since you last heard from me the boyfriend came to visit, my sister and her roommate got back from college, I got a speeding ticket, and finished Christmas shopping.

Everyday, pleasant things... except for the ticket. It was coming back from Pittsburgh after picking my sister and her roommate up at the airport. There's a section of I-79 that goes down to 55mph for no particular reason, and I wasn't paying attention, and passed a cop while going 70 mph. So he nabbed me. I was polite and I've never been pulled over before, but he was cranky and unimpressed and still gave me a ticket for $110 and told me to be grateful he didn't double it because of the work zone I was approaching that was still a half-mile ahead.
Rawr.
I was annoyed, obviously, but dutifully paid my fine. Then last night I realized I had two letters, dated one day apart, warning me about suspending my license for failing to pay fines. Apparently I still owed the state 0.50. The cop, might I point out, had horrible handwriting, and added up the numbers incorrectly, so they were all a scratched-out black spot on the paper. I wrote my check by remembering the total he'd given me when he snagged me.
So given that the price of an average piece of paper, printed, is 0.15, an envelope, printed, is about 0.13. Now, granted, they probably didn't have to pay postage because it's a government thing, but it's still costing money somewhere. We'll pretend it's not though.
They sent me:
3 papers (two white, one orange)--0.45
2 legal envelopes----0.26
Total: 0.71

So basically, I'm fifty cents poorer, and they're twenty-one cents in the hole because they insisted on taking my fifty cents.

I did, however, include this note with my check for 0.50:

I feel some small sense of victory because of this note. Dad got all angsty, though, about the Feds coming for me. I don't think telling somebody to buy two gumballs constitutes anything like a real threat, though. I mean, what could I have followed it up with? "I hope you chew them until your jaw hurts"?

I had more to write about that wasn't as full of complaints, but it's late and I have work tomorrow, so you will have to wait. You could also read my most recent Duckling Saga update to pass time if you wish: Pascal's Duckling Bildungsroman

I will end with a song to cheer you up. Kate Rusby is one of my all-time favourite artists, and Priscilla, my friend who introduced me to the joys of Ms. Rusby, sent me this today. Make sure to read the lyrics.

Winter comes around,
And he knows he is homeward bound,
His heartbeat is the only sound he's known,

He once lost his way,
He knows now that was yesterday,
He fell down on his knees to pray for home.

We'll sing to the morning,
We'll sing till the bells they sound,
We'll sing till the wandering soul is found.

We'll sing to the morning,
We'll sing till the bells they sound,
We'll sing till the wandering soul is found.

He's found his way at last,
With each turn a new bond was cast,
His friends now hold him steady fast and true.

With peace in his eyes,
The fear now is a pain in the skies,
With friends near he sees only skies of blue

We'll sing to the morning,
We'll sing till the bells they sound,
We'll sing till the wandering soul is found.

We'll sing to the morning,
We'll sing till the bells they sound,
We'll sing till the wandering soul is found.

It's clearer every day,
He knows now he is here to stay,
He cares not why he went away so long.

He's found where he belongs,
He know he's been here all along,
He is smiling as he joins his friends in song.

We'll sing to the morning,
We'll sing till the bells they sound,
We'll sing till the wandering soul is found.

We'll sing to the morning,
We'll sing till the bells they sound,
We'll sing now the wandering soul is found.