I still can’t type worth a damn. Mousing is no picnic, either. And to add insult to injury, I slammed my right (!) hand in a filing cabinet at work this afternoon, so now I’m sporting a lovely red knot on the back of my middle finger.
Somehow, my left hand and arm have managed to remain unscathed. Praise be!
I got so disgusted with the DSL cutting out on me that I haven’t bothered to even try getting online lately. Mr. Cable Guy was here this ayem, though, so I’m all hooked up with broadbandy goodness. It is beautiful.
In order to get ready for cable internet service, though, I had to pretty much rearrange my entire apartment. The bedroom had to be flip-flopped with the studio, and the living room furniture had to be rotated 180 degrees. Aieee! And, of course, being the master procrastinator that I am, I didn’t start until yesterday. It wouldn’t have been so bad, even then, but when I was about half-way done, I slit the index finger on my right hand open. It was deep enough to need stitches and was bleeding like nothing I’d ever seen before, but since Prompt Care wasn’t open, I just bandaged it up tightly and finished moving crap. Lemme tell ya’, moving a full-size mattress and box springs one-handed is not completely impossible, but it is No Picnic.
The good news is that the cut is deep enough that it doesn’t hurt. I’m whiny enough without adding “Waaah, it hurts!” to the litany of stuff to complain about. The bad news is that it is a pain in the arse to type. Work should be lots of fun this week!
Anyway, rearranging the living room meant moving CDs, which was sort of comical, given the injured hand problem. I finally got everything emptied out of the shelves, when I recalled being cranky a few days ago because I didn’t have anything to listen to. Um, clearly, that was not true. What I meant was that I wanted something new to listen to.
And there are a couple hundred more out in the car. I remember once, when I was about 12-13, getting a lecture from my step-father about how it was unreasonable to spend all my money on records when I already had plenty to listen to. Lord knows, I can listen to the same thing over and over and over again, until everyone else’s ears start to bleed, but I do finally get bored and want new aural stimulation. More importantly, the arting is directly tied to the requirement for new aural stimulation. No new music eventually turns into no new art.
Anyway! The new cable modem is installed, and it is working beautifully. The cable phone connection is also clearer, which is nice. What is not nice is that AT&T are socking me with a $99 early termination fee, even though I terminated because their service was sucky. AND! Get this! When I called last week to get help with the flaky DSL, the tech guy told me to restart my computer. Gee, I would have never thought of that! And then he started hitting on me!!! Not cool at all. And the woman I talked to this morning couldn’t figure out why I didn’t just keep calling tech support every time the DSL died. Well, let’s see, perhaps it’s because the manchildren you have manning your tech support lines are misogynist pigs? Worse, they are unhelpful misogynist pigs. Also, who wants to struggle with their horrid voice response system every 20 minutes? Life is too short for that bullshit.
Milton has been gone for the past week. It’s been heavenly. No blaring television, no stomping around, no jazz karaoke club, no disco step-aerobics, no dropped free weights, and no buckets of filthy water tossed onto my patio.
The heavenliness ended at about 11:00 last night, when I was awakened to the sound of Milton stomping up and down the hallway stairs. Aieee! That was followed by much galloping around upstairs. I finally got back to sleep, only to be re-awakened at 2:45 ayem by what sounded like someone jumping off a bed or chair. That was followed by more stomping, only this time it sounded like he was actually running around in circles.
Asshelmet!
I have been a lazy, bad blogger lately. Mea culpa. Between being easily sidetracked and willfully procrastinating, I’ve gotten a whole lot of nothing done. That’s not entirely true, though. I’ve gotten boring stuff done, like laundry and cleaning and putting away the hundreds of CDs that collect and breed around the stereo and computer.
What I should have been doing, though, is rearranging the bedroom and studio. I have to have the rooms swapped around before Monday morning, because the cable person is supposed to come and set up my modem and phone. Wheee! No more AT&T! Before that can happen, though, the computer has to be moved to the other room, because that’s where the phone and cable jacks are near each other. It’s a pain in the ass, but a good one. The current bedroom is actually the larger room, and it would be nice to have that extra space for the studio, instead of wasting it on sleeping.
But, because of the laziness and the procrastination and the gnat-sized attention span, I haven’t really gotten much accomplished moving-wise. Instead, I’ve been downloading and watching episodes of Big Brother UK (no, really) and hunting for new music. I’ve also been swearing at the phone company because my DSL keeps going crashing. Despite my lack of interest in getting things ready for the cable folks, Monday cannot come quickly enough.
There is never enough time to just sit and watch Miss Brown bask in the sun. The weather here has been spectacular the last few days, and Harriet has spent a lot of time outside, enjoying it. The black Lab on the 2nd floor balcony next door has gotten used to her being outside, and now just smiles and wags at her. It’s very sweet and companionable. The white Pit Bull on the 3rd floor balcony still has a snit whenever she sees Harriet, though I’m happy to report that her owner has been paying closer attention, and has been bringing her inside when she gets obnoxious. This makes Harriet happy, because she can go back to being a lazy sun worshiper. And that makes me happy, because I love watching her sunbathe.
Why does the PO have public, published (on their own website!) phone numbers if they have no intention of ever answering the damned phone? So I guess I’ll have to go stand in the hour-long line again this afternoon, to see if there is any chance of getting my stupid bill back, because lord knows, I couldn’t actually call them. But if I do that, I’m guaranteed to go home and find it sitting in my mailbox.
On the bright side, Pandora is giving me some extra good music to listen to this ayem. Although I cannot comprehend why it thought I’d like to P.I.L. None for me, thanks, but I would like an extra helping of The Birthday Party. Also, Neko Case.
I drove by the post office this morning, to mail a payment for a bill. So, what did I actually put in the big blue box? The bill itself. Yes, folks, I put an opened bill in the outgoing mailbox. Kill me now!
I did, however, remember to bring my banana this morning, instead of leaving it for the dog to eat. Speaking of which, I found the peel from yesterday’s banana under one of the pillows on the couch. I shoved my hand under the pillow, looking for the remote. Ew.
I left The 52 Ounce (my big thermos mug, and yes, that is its proper name) at D’s house yesterday. Waaah! And then, this morning, I left the banana I meant to bring for my snack, sitting on the edge of the dining room table. I have a feeling it won’t be there when I get home, and that I’m likely to find the mangled peel someplace really disgusting, like buried under my pillow.
1. I stopped at the grocery store to pick up a couple of things this afternoon, and the bagger stuck my sack of potatoes on the bottom rack of my cart. I never, ever, EVAR put anything there, because I am sure to forget it. He didn’t even tell me he’d put anything on the bottom rack, and as I was preoccupied with paying for my purchases, I wasn’t watching what he was doing. Damn! It’s only $2.99, but it really makes me mad.
And I don’t even know why he put the potatoes on the bottom rack. I only bought a few things (lentils, spinach, and lemon juice), so it’s not like there wasn’t plenty of room in the cart.
2. I am seriously considering switching to cable phone/internet service. When I called to pay my bill, they quoted me $20 for phone and $30 for cable broadband. That’s significantly cheaper than what I’m paying right now for phone and DSL. They said that set-up was free, and if you sign up for both phone and cable, there is no equipment rental or purchase charge. I’ll have to give back the modem when I’m done with it, but that’s fine with me.
And, really, as much as most cable behemoths may suck, they cannot compete with AT&T in sheer evilness. For one thing, you can actually call the local cable office and talk to a real, live person. For another thing, their voice response system actually works pretty well. I swear to God, every time I call the phone company, I have an overwhelming urge to kick the smarmy computer voice guy in the shins. Alas, the best I can do is give him a low score on the final “How did I do?” survey.
I had to stop by the Woodbridge PO on my way home yesterday, to pick up a certified letter. The line was ridiculously long, and was moving very slowly. There were four employees working the counter. Needy Girl was being helped at counter A (we’ll be referring back to this point momentarily). Counter B was being monopolized by Student Guy, who was apparently trying to get official papers mailed with some sort of guaranteed delivery by X date. It involved much instructing and much filling out of forms, which he was allowed to do at the front desk, without being asked to step aside so someone else could be helped while he was filling out forms.
I don’t recall who was at counters C and D. They were moving slowly, onna counta the workers were slow-poking along like they hadn’t a care in the world, but at least they were moving. Then, counter D employee put up his closed sign and went on break. On his way, he stopped by counter A, to see what was going on with Needy Girl. Then counter B stepped over to counter A, to kibitz. And I’ll be damned if it didn’t end up with all four employees crammed behind counter A, being monopolized by Needy Girl. Not fair!
At this point, the line obviously stopped moving entirely. Finally, a woman behind me walked up to the counter and asked them to call someone from in back to help out, because the line had not moved in 15 minutes. Five minutes later, I was contemplating whether or not to just leave and come back another day. I was second in line at that point, and had been for 20 minutes, but I had no reason to think I was going to get waited on anytime soon.
Finally, counter B asked Student Guy to move aside, so she could wait on the man in front of me. When it was my turn, she grabbed the receipt out of my hand and told me to sign and print my name on the little electronic screen thingy. Well, I am short, and I could not see the screen, because of the glare from the overhead lights. I tried tipping it, which made the screen go wonky. I said I was having trouble seeing the screen, and Counter B snarked at me to sign my name and print it beneath. Excuse me?! That’s what I was trying to do, you fuckwit! I finally managed to get my name entered, and then had to print my address on the next screen. She actually told me to hurry up. WTF?! I know there was a long line, but she was the one who had been wasting our time, so it’s not appropriate to chivy me along. Anyway, when I told her again that I was having trouble seeing the screen, because I am short, and she told me to pull it to the edge of the desk. It was at the edge of the desk, and I still couldn’t see it,[1] you giant ass!
And then, before she’d even finished waiting on me, she called the next person! Hello?! I’m not done yet! Then, as I was walking away, she had the nerve to command me to have a nice day. You’ve got to be kidding me, I said.
I know the USPS is not like other service-oriented businesses, in that they have a monopoly, are a government agency, and they can pretty much do whatever the hell they want. It’s still pretty mind boggling that they can get away with treating their customers like that, though.
And the newest rate hike? It galls us, it does!
Also, as I was walking out the door, an hour after arriving? Needy Girl was still at counter A. Who knows how long she was there before I’d arrived, or how long she stayed after I’d left.
_____________________________
[1] How do they serve little people or folks in wheelchairs?
It’s jazz hour at Club Upstairs. Not only that, but it’s audience participation night. There’s nothing quite like wacky jazz with random xylophone accompaniment.
red paper boat 