Fiorella is confused. Her steering wheel inset keeps notifying her in flashing red that she needs to check her tires, but each time she looks at them (1,2,3,4), they are all there.
As someone who will soon be in the market for a new home, Fio does not like "staging." She'd rather be able to see the naked bones of the house and dress it herself.
Every time we mechanize one of our tasks, we become more dependent on machines. Think about it.
Fiorella's Email is refusing to open up again.
Fio's accountant called and instructed your girl on how to get some needed IRS info regarding her savings account. Fiorella followed the instructions to a T and got through the bank's ID exam until it came to the phone number of her cell phone, which she couldn't remember. Nonplussed, she drove to down to the bank in her car with the wheels that are fire-engine red--and discovered it was closed. Is it a wonder that Fiorella has been known to scream and scream and scream?
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