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December 20th, 2011
I am, forever, one of THOSE people.....
You know the ones. Schleprock. If it can go wrong, it *will*! And yet, always things wind up ok, or the misfortune springs from good fortune, or .... chicken or egg.
Today's semi-debacle: Mommy, wonderful sweet kind thoughtful Mommy, bought me a new washing machine for my birthday! Yay! Amazing, and too much by far. Not so much that I'd turn it down, of course:) So. Today is the big day--delivery day! Yay!
Delivery guys come, open the door to the condo entry, and one says, "Ohhh...they didn't tell us about the stairs." I pretended not to hear.
They haul it up the stairs--the longest, steepest flight ever, by the way...and get it in the door. Fortunately this condo has miniature everything, including washer, so at least its not a full size.
I say, "You're going to hate this, but...the washer goes in that closet."
Delivery Guy peers suspiciously at the closet. For a long, long time.
Finally goes and opens the door and goes, "Ohhh, jeez."
Because said closet is roughly 4x4. With a door. No room to maneuver. Said closet is also occupied by the air handler, which is why I cannot fit my heart's desire, a full-size washer and dryer, in it.
"Um, they didn't tell us about removing the old washer, ma'am. This was just supposed to be an install."
"Oh!" I say brightly. "Jeez, I'm sorry...see, my mom surprised me with this for my birthday and set it up..she must not have realized..."
Fortunately they took pity and began doing mechanically-inclined-looking things to the washer.
10 minutes later..."Miss?"
I wandered back over.
"This stacking kit they have in here...its blocking the water hose. We can't even get in there to disconnect the old one."
Moreover, "We don't have the tools to do this..you're gonna need someone that has the tools and the time.."
"You can call back the company and they'll refund the installation money, since we couldn't do it."
So now I have a shiny new washing machine (still in packaging) in my living room. And a semi-pulled out old one in the closet. Oh, and by the way...
"Ma'am? We accidentally broke this...I don't know what it goes to."
He holds out a small plastic plumbing elbow. I look at it forlornly. "That belongs to the air handler." Now I need an A/C repair guy too.
So. I call the delivery company. They refund the installation fee to Mom's card.
I am waiting on an appliance guy who was supposed to come first thing in the morning but just called--as I write this!-- and said he can come now.
I would like to be optimistic and say that I'm sure it will all work out beautifully.
I really would.
But...I have a new washer!
November 9th, 2011
A Work-Approved Story
I wrote this up during a spare few minutes at work and emailed it to pretty much everyone so that I could thoroughly embarrass my colleague and friend, Neurotica, while making myself look really good. Turned out to be very popular--clearly funnier than it felt while it was happening.
In the interest of protecting those who might be embarrassed or otherwise annoyed by this, all persons named “NEUROTICA” have had their true names disguised in government-approved fashion, and will henceforth only be referred to as “MY FRIEND”.
So “MY FRIEND” asked me to go to her house again yesterday—I’d gone on Tuesday as well—to medicate Beagle (her beagle), as she’d be working late…he’s having some surgery todayL
So I drive – over the river and through the woods – get ALMOST there – like, pulling into the ‘hood – and think….”Did I put the keys to her house back in my purse yesterday?”
I begin rifling through my purse, digging around, then digging more, then up-ending the purse onto car seat…..WHEWWWWWWWWW there they are.
Ok. I pull into the driveway. Beagle and Snoopy and O’Malley, posted in the front window, all see me and start going ballistic. I go to the front door….aaaaand the storm door is locked.
There is no key for the storm door.
I cannot unlock the front door without opening the storm door. Which is locked. And has no key.
I call “MY FRIEND” and tell her. I also tell her that yes, I did try to open the garage door using the code, but it didn’t open.
She said brightly, “Oh, my friend changed the code. Its blah blah…but that door thingie hasn’t worked in months. You have to have a garage door opener, or open it from the inside.”
Um. I don’t have a garage door opener, and I am clearly not inside.
Dogs are now bounding off the windows in excitement. WHY AREN’T YOU COMING IN WHY AREN’T YOU COMING IN WHY AREN’T YOU COMING IN?!?
I start muddling with the code box for the garage. I peer under the cover. It has a teeny tiny screw in the middle. I ask “MY FRIEND”, “Does this thing work on batteries?”
“I dunno, the guy from Sears dealt with it.”
“Really? And told you nothing? Just installed it and left a flyer that read, ‘If magic box break, magic Sears unicorn will materialize and fix’???
She did not appreciate my wit.
Dogs beginning to rappel up the curtains now.
I sigh and say, “Hokay. I will go to CVS and buy an eyeglass repair kit with a little screwdriver and some batteries. You owe me.”
So off I went, chased by the confused and disconsolate howls of the dogs. WHYYYYYYYYYYY??
CVS only has one type of eyeglass repair kit to choose from, but it has multiple heads for the screwdriver thingie. I buy it and some AAA batteries. Return to “MY FRIEND”’s house.
Dogs begin doing backflips of ecstasy. SHE’S BACK SHE CAME BACK SHE DIDN’T LEAVE US COME IN HURRY HURRY HAVE TO PEE NOWWWW!!!!
Begin working with the screwdriver. Doesn’t fit. Try another of the little heads. It breaks. Try the first one again, with more feeling this time. It breaks.
I call “MY FRIEND” and admit defeat.
She apologizes profusely for having me go all the way out there for nothing. I tell her I feel terrible for teasing the dogs, even though I didn’t mean to.
The dogs are now trying to dissolve the window with their saliva.
Can’t give up now, dammit.
I suddenly have brainstorm. This town has a little hardware store! With the most helpful folks ever! Seriously. They will LEND you tools if you only need them once. True story.
I head up there, singing with the radio loudly to drown out the desperate howls of Primary Beagle and (to borrow from Dave Barry) Small Auxiliary Backup Beagle, bereft and abandoned.
I find a 6-types-of-screwdriver kit and explain my dilemma to Hardware Guy, ask him if he thinks this might work. He walks with me to the screw section (no, not THAT kind of screw, dirty bugger) and we find the approximate size screw (from my dead-on memory. HA.) He assures me that it should work, but if not, come back and they’ll loan me some stuff from their toolbox to try.
I head back, confidently armed with new screwdriver kit and the AAA batteries. Pull back into driveway.
Dogs now clawing their way vertically up the wall and hanging upside down from ceiling.
I try the screwdriver Hardware Guy recommended.
Its unscrewing! Its unscrewing!
I pull the panel off, and expose the…….
Am thinking in horror, “Now I have to make another trip and leave the now
thoroughly confused dogs again” when it hit me…..
I am wearing my TENS unit. It takes a 9-volt. Woot!
I remove the battery from my TENS unit…who needs electrostim therapy anyway??? There are dogs that need rescuing!!!
Insert battery in garage door code box.
Suddenly….happy happy sound…the gears are engaging! The door is moving!!!
Fortunately interior door unlocked. Otherwise the dogs might have begun tunneling out. I would have shouted instructions to them.
Inside. Peeled dogs from ceiling. Considered mopping up the river of saliva that filled the trench (now a moat) which the dogs had created when running maniacally from window to window to encourage me—but I decided that “MY FRIEND” must be punished for locking the storm door, and just threw a rubber duck into it instead. Distributed peanut butter (one bit cleverly disguising Beagle meds) and opened the back door to Release the Kraken(s) for awhile and maybe throw a ball around with them.
And how was YOUR day?
P.S. – I am thinking I now need the “Mission Impossible” theme music to precede me wherever I go.
Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: content dogs panting
September 7th, 2007
Don't try this at home....
I was harangued into explaining this to the assembled Romper Room crowd at work, which is probably more humiliation than one person needs in their lifetime...but what the hey, I'm a glutton for punishment.
I was late for work today--and I am NEVER late--due to an itsy-bitsy..uh..head wound.
The explanation amused the doctor and her physician's assistant to no end. They even made me repeat it for the nurse.
I am only mildly amused.
Ok, its funny.
I was apparently having a very vivid dream...I was back in the ol' Florida county, in a patrol car, in hot pursuit of RandomBadGuy. He bailed on foot, so I stopped and got out and ran after him. I lose him in some woods that suddenly appeared, and hear a car screech to a stop behind me. Its one of my old dispatcher friends (yes, Dreamer1215, YOU!) in a really crappy old Camaro yelling, "Get in, Lisa, he got into a car again!" And then she leans waaay forward into the steering wheel, pulling her seat forward so that I can get in behind her because someone I can't see is in the passenger seat.
I *dive* into the car.
Which is the point at which I wake up, apparently having *dived* off the bed.
I am not making that up.
I am on the floor, with an OWIE on the back of my skull where I hit the nightstand.
Small auxiliary cat mewling around my feet anxiously.
I put my hand up to my skull....wet.
Did my hair not dry from the shower last night, or is that....?
Go into the bathroom...yep. It's blood.
And a lot of it.
Well, I know from looking at many *other* peoples' wounded noggins that head wounds, even minor ones, bleed a LOT, so I wasn't overly worried.
Checked the clock...0430! Its 30 minutes til the alarm goes off! DAMMIT!
I tried checking my pupils in the mirror, but found its sort of impossible cause your focus keeps shifting from eye to eye. Dang.
Found a washcloth to hold to my head, since it was now dripping down my neck onto my favorite tank top.
E-mailed work to say I'd be late, made some tea and sopped up my head til it slowed down. Put a towel down and dozed off til the doc's office opened at 8.
Later received annoyed/worried message from Neurotica, who heard through the grapevine that I'd hit my head (that's all my e-mail told workfolk) and wanted to know why the HELL I'd driven myself to the doctor instead of calling her, when surely I knew that I could have passed out while driving. Yes, I knew this.
And yes, I am stubbornly independent, to the point of idiocy.
But at least I'm consistent:)
Anyway. Prognosis is that I'm going to live, and I refused the offer of stitches or staples--the actual cut is really small, as I suspected--and the bump pretty big, plus my neck and shoulders are killing me.
Anyway..it must have been quite a good dive..I bet even the Soviet judge would have given it a 10!
I have endured all-day ridicule from co-workers and Neurotica, who are helpfully offering restraints (to tie myself to the bed at night for safety), helmets, and, from the new guy, a mouthpiece and help covering all the sharp edges in my condo with nice foam padding.
Ok, it has to be said, no matter how wrong: is it only me that sees the irony in "I had a dream..."---and a head wound?
Ok, randomness from the Short Guy: while I was at the doc's he apparently called my cell and left a message, apologizing for disappearing. Said he "had some baggage from a previous relationship to deal with" and that I didn't deserve his disappearing act, etc etc blah blah, I'm a wonderful person, deserve better, sure I'll find someone who's good enough for me, yada yada yada.
After not hearing *anything* from him for like a month.
Anyway, I've long since taken my ball and left the playground he was on. Pththththt!
Current Mood: awake
Current Music: cat purring
September 3rd, 2007
So if ever a dear friend asks you to help her clear out her garage on a sunny, beautiful, perfect-weather day... may I recommend that you decline.
Make something up.
Allergic to any and all things garage-y.
Hammertoes acting up.
Holy piles of worthless crap. And an *argument* over everything I tried to throw out. I kept calling her "mom", a reference to my own dear packrat mother, who I fear will someday soon have only a narrow path of navigation (known as a "goat-trail") through which she can pass from room to room.
By the way, this dear friend (Neurotica, of course), has harangued me ever since she found out about my mom's packrattiness to get Mom into counseling...and, while Mom's at her session, run in and throw everything out since Mom obviously can't deal with it.
We *argued* over things I was trying to throw out.
Valuable things, obviously worth the argument...like--uh, the gajillion (or so) disposable plastic containers, affectionately known as throwaway tupperware.
Mind you, they've been sitting in the garage for a year.
Gathering dust and spider-eggs and who knows what else.
"But I can wash them!"
I couldn't talk her out of the Chia Pet. I am not making that up.
A Chia Pet!!
"But my brother got that for me!"
Uh...does your brother like you? Even a little?
And so it went.
For SIX HOURS.
My back is achy from hauling things back and forth (did I mention the *12* gallons of paint?) and my voice a bit hoarse from alternately yelling at her, ridiculing her, and laughing myself silly at some of the absolute bizarre random shit she has collected..and KEPT.
I feel slightly less a horrid human being for having 6 kitchen trash bags filled with clothing in my truck that I want desperately to donate, but found out when I arrived at what *used* to be the drop-off site that said site has since vanished.
But at least I *parted* with my stuff.
Home now, showered (!!) and feeling better:)
August 27th, 2007
A good weekend, and an auspicious beginning to the week!
...So of course, it can only go down from here!
Friday night there was a going-away party for a guy in the office.
Entailed a drive to the BIG CITY, but heck, I worked with the guy both here and overseas..may as well add another pin on the map of where I've seen him!
It was very nice, at an outdoor bar on the water (though HOT). Wound up at a bar further in the city, reminding me of why I hate crowds (especially crowds of tipsy people). Gave the Cute Marrieds a ride home in exchange for walking me to my car, parked 4 blocks from the bar--definitely a good trade!
Saturday, martial arts class during the day, cleaning house after, and dinner with friends in a nearby town just north of here. Good food and of course lots o' larfs!
Sunday, laundry, lazy, baked 2 cheesecakes for yet another going-away shindig, this time for spineless Team Lead aka JelloGirl. Watched "Hot Fuzz". A scream!
Better than good, it sounds like an amazing opportunity--important, real-time stuff. I am very excited, and hope to hear something in the next couple of weeks.
Even got in a little 2-mile run tonight (ok, lets not lie--2 miles is not "little" for me!)
Current Music: foot tapping happily
August 22nd, 2007
a PITA her mind
a PITA her mind
Current mood: distressed
That's all I can say. PITA boss apparently told the company that she wanted FlipCup out. Well, the client always wins, and today our larger manager CALLED FlipCup to tell her that she's been fired.
Had FlipCup uh...well, *flipped*, and stormed into PITA's office and beaten the bejesus out of her, the company would have been totally responsible.
None of our managers even had the cojones to tell the girl face-to-face! She's been working for them for years, and with no warning--she's out.
Does NOT inspire confidence in the company.
And with the warpath that PITA is on, we are all feeling rather shaky.
Fortunately, FlipCup was already on her way out of her own volition and starts her new job in 2 weeks--but holy crap, what if she hadn't?!
I have no respect for the way they back-door people here...they did it to me (see way earlier blogs for the drama) and they did it to Gorgeous Latina aka Token as well...they demoted her while she was TDY in HotScaryPlace for them, and never gave her so much as a head's up. She came back to work to find that someone had replaced her. WTF?
Fortunately they didn't go so far as to fire us outright (though they tried with me), but jeeeeeeez.
Am scheduled to talk to a guy on Monday about a new job; a little scary, as its an independent contractor position. I'd have to file all my own tax stuff and get my own insurance, etc. But the money's very good and the experience would be phenomenal. Downside? A LOT of travel to HotScaryPlace(s). Hmmmm.
August 17th, 2007
So last night I took my first martial-arts-esque class, a discipline called Krav Maga. More self-defense than bowing and kowtowing, which is why I picked this style. I'm all about keeping it practical. Whew! Sweaty, but great:)
Really nice group of folks, only one intimidating built-like-a-brick-youknowwhat guy--and it was his first time there too.
I have to admit, I got the idea from Romper Room 1 (cubicle mate), who took a class where he lives and loved it. It's gonna kill me to tell him he was right!
Neurotica was supposed to go with me--actually we were supposed to go the night before last, but she punked out, claiming exhaustion. Since she's *never* tired like that, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Ha!
Horrid girl begged off again tonight, this time admitting that she just can't stand the thought of getting sweaty in front of people when she's not happy with her weight.
Actually she said, .."when I'm so fat", which is utterly untrue--she is NOT fat.
But..well, Neurotica. 'Nuff said!
She shouldn't have worried, the only 2 other females in the class were easily twice her size, and the guys were all cool--several older, the younger ones by no means the buff beach boys she'd apparently pictured mocking her sweaty so-called fat ass huffing away while she punched. I told her this after class, and she said...yep, you guessed it...."Maybe when I lose 15 pounds or so I'll go with you."
And no, the logic of "If you go, you will lose 15 pounds before you know it, whereas if you sit on your ass it will remain its current size," had no impact. Said she'll continue the treadmill and elliptical, and biking with me, and maybe running the trail occasionally (we started that last week).
And I thought *I* was neurotically self-conscious!
Current Music: Cat snoozing at my feet
August 5th, 2007
Sunday, Lazy Sunday
Planned to sleep in..made it all the way to 5:45 a.m.! Go, me!
Now *why* I have so much trouble waking to the 5 a.m. alarm on weekdays, don't ask.
Doin' some laundry, cuddled the cat, then drove to Neurotica's to check on the adopt-a-cats. They're fine, came out to see me and be scratched, and watched with great interest as I cleaned the litterboxes..then immediately jumped in and used them again. Dammit!
Then I loaded up my bike and hit the trail..10 miles seems a lot longer solo, but it was a good ride nonetheless.
Now all showered and shiny and waiting for my tea to brew so I can get back to my book:)
And nope...no word from the no-longer-being-considered guy.
Bad news: while enroute to the trail, W.P. called me to tell me that beloved Beagle Bailey suffered a massive stroke early this morning. She rushed him to the vet; they said he's paralyzed almost completely below the neck..can still move his paws a bit, and his head. He can eat if the bites are small enough. I asked what she's going to do..she's going to try to do some physical therapy with him to regain some function. I can't really tell her what my instincts are telling me; to let him go. God knows it took me a long time to be able to say goodbye to Moo, and I did everything possible to keep him with me for as long as I could keep him reasonably comfortable. Poor Bailey..I've known him as long as W.P. has, nearly 12 years. He was an adorable little terror as a puppy, and a sweet and faithful companion since. I'm hoping for the best for him, whatever that may be.
All the latest..ok, this is *yesterday*'s latest...
Work weirdness: This time last year (scroll thru archives for that particular hell), T.E.F.K.E.B. (The Entity Formerly Known as Evil Boss) was trying to fire me. Now, apparently, he wants me to take over as Team Lead.
How about "no".
Told he and incoming PITA (Pain In The Ass, of course!) boss that:
(a) I'm actively looking for another group to work with (I've done 2 years & 2 tours to HotSandyPlace for this team, time to move on)
(b) I've *done* the middle-management thing, back in FL at the S.O., and it raised my blood pressure to dangerous levels--literally. I normally have *low* blood pressure. This is not good;
(c) While I'd be happy to help out with being a coordinator for the reports the team puts out, that is as far as I'm willing to go; I do not want more meetings, local travel, liaison-ing with other agencies, dealing with personnel issues, scheduling, listening to various and sundry complaints/whining/bitching from subordinates and/or recriminations from so-called-superiors, or being the proverbial sacrificial lamb of both my company and the client.
They blinked at me.
Went out with the girls last night, to a night spot in a 'burb.
It's a pretty big 'burb, and was a packed bar. They had a couple of really good bands, and plenty of pretty men to look at. I forgot there were so many around, I never *see* this type where I work! So...laughs with the girls, good music. Good times. Was weaving through the crowd toward the dance floor (which was the stage area that night) to see the band, and thought I saw a friend I knew from HotSandyPlace. However, knowing this guy lives in another state, dismissed it.
Got a spot to watch the band, and felt a tug on my hair. Oooh, hate that!
Turned around and saw small grinning guy. Gave him the raised eyebrow warning and turned back around.
Then it hit me.
That looked like....
Turned back around. Yep. An old friend that I'd worked many a double-shift with here--years ago. He was laughing.."What, you don't know me if I'm not at work, ya damn snob?!" And he was standing with..yep. The guy I knew from HotSandyPlace. Visiting and doing some training in this area.
So that was more fun--reunion and reminiscing, and of course..them laughing at their "typical blonde!" jokes. Ok, maybe I deserved 'em this time:)
Did some 'detail' cleaning today and spent time on the phone with Neurotica for moral support (see more below). Finally got those damn windows on the French doors cleaned, which I avoid cause its a big ol' pain in the arse. Feel flush with accomplishment now.
Wow, I'm lazy!
The elusive oh-so-busy new guy?
He was taking his youngest home (cross-country flight) and was supposed to back this afternoon. He was (again) supposed to call me to plan something for Sunday. I had told him last time I spoke to him--if I don't hear from you before Sunday about doing something...don't count on me being available. I will make alternate plans.
Which I did. Because he hasn't called.
WTF?? You cannot convince me that in the four days since we last spoke, he couldn't find five available minutes in his busy schedule to call.
I told him when we last spoke that I was beginning to suspect that he was either still married or was already in a relationship; I've never met anyone with so many schedule issues.
He laughed this off (nervously, I thought) and swore he was totally single, just oh-so-busy.
Well, I am about done with being last priority yet again.
Story of my fucking life.
I will be busy tomorrow:)
I'm taking the bike to the trail and going it solo...Neurotica called and asked if I could look in on the 2 cats, as she'd taken the dogs and hit the road north for (at least) a week...her grandmother passed. N. was already on her way home, having gotten the "she's getting worse" call; guess she got the second call while enroute. She is very sad that she didn't get to say goodbye; they were close. And of course her own mother is devastated. I told her I'd be happy to cuddle the kittens for her, and do anything else she needed done. Guess that's about all I can do-
July 25th, 2007
So I hit the trail with Neurotica tonight..late start (as usual) after meeting the 2 cats she's insanely agreed to watch...for a year while their people transfer to a new position overseas. Now all she needs is a monkey and she'll have a damn zoo in that house! So. After greeting both dogs and meeting both kitties, we finally got going.
Had a nice ride, laughed our butts off about I don't remember what, which of course made us suck in roughly 10 zillion gnats and spend the next mile or so trying to hack them back out.
We finished up and got back to the parking area, where I executed a very cool nearly-sideways death-and-gravity-defying turn, finishing with a slowdown--half-dismounting and riding one pedal as I slowed to a stop. I am the COOLEST! Then my bike fell on my shin, and I tried to (coolly) pick it up, but wound up toppling onto the bike. I am so NOT the coolest!!
I'm sure I heard the deer snickering in the woods.
Can't say I blame 'em:)
And yes...it *did* make a nice 2-inch diameter, raised-up bruise *with* accompanying welt on my shin. I am the hotness!