Category: Crankypantsing

Crankypantsing

Is Your Ctrl-Alt-Shift-J Working?

Shelly

God help me. Otherwise, I may scream.

Our system was upgraded over the weekend, so all our macros are, of course, broken. Wev. This happens with every upgrade, and it’s not something I intend to get my knickers in a twist over. Others, though? Lordy! I have been asked several times today if my “Ctrl-Alt-Shift-whatever” macro is working.

What the fuck, people?! I haven’t a clue what Ctrl-Alt-Shift-whatever refers to. All my macros have been re-keyed so that the keystrokes are easy for me to remember and reach. Duh. Why on earth would someone use a three- or four-key macro that requires both hands and/or acrobatics, when they can use a simple, two-key macro? Even stupider, why would anyone assume that someone else’s macros are linked to the same hot keys as theirs?

Do these people not think?

Crankypantsing

Fun with Taxes

Shelly

I got my W2s this week, so I thought I’d be clever and file my taxes ASAP. Federal is fine. I’m getting $900 back, which is earmarked for car repairs and a couple of toys I’ve been wanting and/or needing.

State taxes? Oh boy! I used I-file, because it’s free, and I used it last year without any problems. When I got to the end of my worksheet, though, it said I owed $1100. Aieee! I’m not sure how that can be possible. I got a couple hundred dollars back last year. Of course, I move, too, and to a county where taxes are higher. I expected taxes to be slightly higher, but not that much. And, I expected some of the difference to be offset by the fact that my rent has gone up significantly, and I always file for renter’s deduction.

I just can’t imagine how my state taxes can have risen by $1300. I mean, my county tax withholding was only $340 and state only $897. There’s something seriously, seriously wrong with this picture.

Obviously, I am going to redo my form, as soon as their stupid software resets and will allow me to start over.

Grrrrr!

EDIT: Whew! I think the problem must be with I-File’s software. It was caught in a stupid loop, in which it wouldn’t let me delete or return to my worksheet. I went to the service I used for my federal return, paid the $29 to file state, and am getting $230 back. That’s much, much, much better than owing $1100!

I win!!!!

Crankypantsing, Photography

Blue Sky

Shelly

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It flurried most of the morning, but in the early afternoon, the sky cleared and turned a gorgeous shade of blue. There was a perfect Belt of Venus this evening, too, but I was too busy watching it to take pictures.

No art again today, but there will be something tomorrow. Now, though, it’s way past my bedtime, and a sore throat has been teasing me all day, so I’m going to bed. If Mr. Upstairs wakes me up again tonight, I may have to kick him in the shins. I finally complained about him blasting talk radio all night in the room above my bedroom (boy, does that ever make for weird dreams!), so now he’s spending the night plonking away at the keyboard. How on earth he thinks that’s an improvement is beyond me. There’s something seriously wrong with that man.

Crankypantsing

Allergies, I Hates Them

Shelly

My eyes have been burning ever since I got to work this ayem. Ugh. There’s something toxic in the air here, but I don’t know what it is. With the way the ventilation in this building works, it could be someone painting in the basement or on the 10th floor. Burning eyes and runny nose? It must be happydamnMonday!

Oh, great, now I’m coughing. Maybe I’ll be lucky and this’ll be a harbinger of the plague? Kill me now!

Crankypantsing, Pets

Dog Breading

Shelly

As I was taking Miss Brown out for her evening walk last night, one of the Stompy Girls and her boyfriend were coming in.

BF of SG: Hey, that’s a Boxer!
Me: (Pure jeenyous!) Yes, it is.
BF of SG: Hey, it be a girl or a boy?
Me: (Egad!) Girl.
BF of SG: Hey, is she been spaded?
Me: (Is. She. Been.) Yes. Yes, she has.
BF of SG: Oh. Well, that’s too bad.
Me: (Thank goodness!) Sorry!
BF of SG: Hey, you sure?
Me: (Boggle) Yes, I’m sure. Besides, she’s old and lumpy. (Not to mention the fact that her temperament is Teh Suck.)
BF of SG: Naw, she ain’t too old!
Me: (Yuh-huh!) Um, well, it was nice talking to you.

The funny part was that, even though this guy was clearly interested in setting up my dog for a sexxxy hot date, he was too frightened of her to actually come anywhere near her. When he and SG saw us coming out of the building, they both stepped off the sidewalk. Way, way, way off the sidewalk.

Crankypantsing

Not So Bored

Shelly

I’ve been reading a book on Richard Proenneke, on the advice of someone in one of the dog groups. To say that it’s not great literature is an understatement, but it’s a lovely story. It’s based on Proenneke’s journals and is told in diary format, which I obviously find compelling, despite the bad writing. I’m about half-way through it, and it occurred to me that I could just about be a hermit. It’s not that there aren’t people I like, and that I wouldn’t miss having a support system, but I think I would be pretty content with my own company.

And then, yesterday, a friend and I were talking about being irritated by people (she’s a departmental secretary, which is a thankless job). The cube farm was making me a little angsty, so I told her I’m ready to move to a deserted island. Oh, but seriously. She reckoned that I’d get bored, but I’m pretty sure that I’ve never been bored a day in my life.

She complains a lot about being bored, though, and I have to admit to not being terribly sympathetic. I just don’t understand the concept. I’ve suggested that, if she doesn’t like being bored, then maybe she should cultivate a hobby or twelve. She’s considered and rejected every hobby I can think of, though. Maybe she secretly enjoys being bored? In any event, it can’t be that tortuous, since she prefers it to doing just about anything.

Crankypantsing

VENT!!!!

Shelly

AIEEE!!!! So, I stayed home from work today, for a variety of reasons. I slept in (rather, I went back to bed after getting up at ass o’clock to walk the dog), got up at about 10am, took a shower, then started to make a list of things I need to get done today.

While listing, I heard a commotion in the hallway, but didn’t pay much attention to it. The Stompy Girls had been in and out, and I figured it was something to do with them. Then, there was a knock on my door. WTF? I don’t get drop-in traffic, so if someone knocks on my door, I’m usually expecting it. This was not expected.

Turns out, it was the pest control guys. I may have mentioned them before? When I first moved in, there was a card left on my kitchen table from them, to the effect of, “We’re Blah Blah Blah Company, and we’ve sprayed your kitchen and bathroom for pests.” I was not happy about it at the time, but figured it was a one-time thing and promptly forgot about it.

Come to find out, they have been spraying every damned month. I had no idea! When I called the office (Hello?! I’ve seen TV! I’m not letting a complete stranger into my house, no matter who he says he is!), they said that, yes, the pest control guys have a master key and they just come in if you aren’t home.

Aaack! I’d just gotten out of the shower when they knocked—my hair was still up in a towel. If they’d been five minutes earlier, I wouldn’t have heard them knocking. Presumably they would have just come in?

I guess it wouldn’t seem quite so wrong-wrong-wrongity-wrong-wrong to me if it weren’t for the fact that the management company is very careful to send out “contain your pets” warnings every time their maintenance guys need access to the apartments. It’s a huge liability issue for both them and us, especially if we have dogs. My dog is not at all aggressive, but I’d like to have an opportunity to contain her if someone is going to be in my apartment while I’m not here. I don’t know these guys. I have no reason not to trust them, but what if something did happen, and Harriet bit one of them? That’s just not a fair position to put any dog in.

Which brings me to another point: Miss Brown is useless!!!!! I guess I should be thankful for that, huh?

Ugh. So, anyway, I got the pest control schedule from the management office: first Tuesday of every month, unless it’s a holiday, and then (apparently!), it’ll be the next working day. I wonder how many first Tuesdays I’ve been home, gone back to bed, and slept through them coming in and spraying? Or how many first Tuesdays I’ve gotten up, decided to clean the litter box, and left the trash bag of litter in the middle of the bathroom floor until after work, when I had time to take it to the dumpster? Or how many first Tuesdays I’ve had a sink full of dirty dishes? Or a million other embarrassing messes? Yikes!