pessimism

Will we see him again?

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Update on the farmhouse table. The Facebook guy who was building us a farmhouse table delivered it to us Sunday afternoon, and it’s not exactly right. We got it in the house, put it in place in the dining room, looked at it, looked at each other, and reached for the tape measure.

Dude got some of the dimensions mixed up, I think. It was supposed to be six feet long (it is, close enough), 32 inches high (it’s closer to 34, which is really not gonna work, but is something we could fix ourselves), and 42 inches wide. It is NOT 42 inches wide. It is only 32 inches wide, which is not going to work and is not something we can fix ourselves.

John raced back outside to catch the guy before he left. From John’s account, the guy was cool about it and said he’d make us a new one this week and come to swap them out. I texted him right after that, nicely, with the exact dimensions again.

He didn’t respond. We spent the rest of yesterday wondering if we’ll ever see him again or if we’re stuck with a table 10 inches narrower than we wanted. This is what we get for buying something sight-unseen, or at least for not checking the dimensions before handing over the money.

He still hadn’t responded as of this morning, so I pasted the same message in our Facebook chat, and (WHEW) he responded with an apology about the mix-up, saying he’s working on the new table right now, and he’ll text me when it’s done in a few days.

I feel better about that, I guess, but I’m not completely confident round two will be right. Stay tuned for an update.

I did check Facebook, and YES, I can confirm that I gave him the right numbers to start with. Good to have it writing somewhere, even if it is Facebook.

More car drama

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Waaaaaaayyy back in May, like a WHOLE month ago now, I sent the application for a duplicate title for the Tucson to the DMV (after we discovered we’re unorganized losers).  I sent it after multiple phone calls to their title office to make sure that I was including everything they needed.  I was assured that, despite the very clear instructions on the form, I do not need to include the lien release (because we never had a loan on the car in this state), and I do not need to get the application notarized (because of the virus and the shutdown).  They told me the turnaround time is 2 to 3 weeks.

Two weeks after I mailed the application, I got my self-addressed envelope returned in the mail.  For a minute, I was impressed at how quickly they sent us the title.  That lasted until I opened the envelope.

No, they returned my application and check with a letter listing what was wrong with it.  What was wrong with it?  It wasn’t notarized.

Something else weird: the letter was dated 5/6/20.  I signed my application on 5/14/20.  That’s probably just an oversight – it’s a form letter.  But still.

I called the DMV again and sat on hold for half an hour waiting for someone in the title office.  Then I spoke to Rosa, dear wonderful SUPER helpful Rosa, who was appalled, APPALLED I SAY, to hear that someone returned my application saying it had to be notarized.  Of COURSE we’re not requiring docs to be notarized right now!  How awful that I have to go through this delay!  Whose initials are on that letter?  When I told her there were no initials on the letter, she was practically sputtering with outrage.  “I will CERTAINLY be speaking with my manager about this!”

I certainly appreciated her outrage, over the top though it felt.  Of course, if we hadn’t already gotten rid of the car, I might have been right there with her.  She apologized all over the place and asked me to send it all back in, including the form letter, to her attention, and she would take care of it.  So maybe MAYBE we’ll actually get the duplicate title so we can actually sign it over to the mechanic so we can actually no longer be responsible if it were to turn out the car wasn’t junked and is evidence in a murder or something.

I can be kind of a jerk

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A mom I don’t know very well contacted me the other morning and asked if she could call me.  She had something she wanted to talk to me about.  ON THE PHONE.  Who does that?  To an acquaintance?!

Judging her.

Her message (via WhatsApp) was FULL of typos.  Like, so many typos.  (SO MANY TYPOS.)

Judging her.

She didn’t give me any indication of what it was about.  John was convinced she was going to try to sell me something, maybe try to involve me in a pyramid scheme.  I told her I was free all day EXCEPT for between 3 and 4 pm.

A few hours later, she replied and said she’d call me around 3pm.

Judging her.

I responded right away and said no, that’s when I CAN’T talk. Let’s aim for 4:30.  She said okay.  More typos.

Judging her.

She called me at 4:33. I was prepared to be all annoyed that she was late, but I’m not a monster.  No judging on that one.

Are you ready for the anti-climax of your life?

The conversation was perfectly pleasant, she was perfectly nice, and she was calling to tell me she’s offering a free fitness class over Zoom Saturday morning and wanted to know if a) I was interested, and b) do I think it’s okay if she tells the mom group we have on WhatsApp about it.  The answers were yes, and of course, I think they’d be excited about it, and hey, it was really nice to talk to you.

I feel like I should apologize, even though I didn’t express any of those terrible things to her.

Stop! Thief!

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So….yesterday sucked, as I mentioned yesterday.  Because that’s when it sucked.  Yesterday.

Let’s just say it’s a darn good thing I check my gmail account EVERY SINGLE TIME I see an email come in.

  • At 10:34am yesterday, I got an email from my bank with the subject “Password Reset Confirmation”.
  • At 10:35am yesterday, I got an email from my bank with the subject “Credit Card PIN Change”.
  • At 10:36am yesterday, I got an email from my bank with the subject “TRAVEL NOTIFICATION CONFIRMATION”.

At 10:34, 10:35, and 10:36am yesterday, I was NOT logged in to my bank account, and I did NOT change my password, change my credit card PIN, or log a travel notification.  I did immediately call the bank, but I wasn’t quite fast enough.

Somehow, a thief in Fullerton, CA figured out my bank account password and then immediately used the cash advance feature on my credit card to steal $400.  That happened before I called the bank.  Once I called, the bank froze everything – the credit cards, the debit cards, the accounts, my access to online banking, bill pay – everything.  Like, it’s one thing when your credit card gets stolen, but this person LOGGED IN TO MY ACCOUNT.  They could see EVERYTHING WE’VE GOT.

We got lucky.  There were no withdrawals from any of our checking or savings accounts, and we had the bank close them all and open new ones with the transferred funds, so even if the thief got our account numbers, they’re useless now.  And of course my password and username are new.  And we’ll get the $400 back.

But UGH.  Hours on the phone with the bank, verifying transactions, checking balances, closing accounts.  And how on earth did the thief manage to log in?  I’m a little freaked out.  I’ve already changed most of our passwords, but in the meantime, we don’t have access to our money.  No active credit cards, no active debit cards or ATM cards.  It’s a good thing I went to the grocery store on Sunday because we’re living on the cash we have in the house, and you know what?  That’s not much.  New cards should arrive tomorrow, so this is short term, but I don’t like it.  We should probably have a credit card with another institution.  I’ll think about that tomorrow.  Right now I have to make sure all the doors and windows are locked.

So much no

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I try to keep this blog free of real things that bother me.  I mean, I certainly complain about stuff, but I don’t get into serious issues.  I don’t plan to, either.  I spend all day reading the news and talking about the god-awful things that are going on, and the last thing I want to do is write about them.

I’m angry, I’m sad, and I’m scared, and I DON’T want to talk about it.  I want to hide and wake up from this terrible dream.

I won’t hide, and I will do something.  I donated to the ACLU, I’ll be donating to other organizations, I’m calling my congresspeople daily, and I’ll continue to go to protests and otherwise get involved locally.  I’m thinking about other things I can do.

In the meantime, I want to stay light here.  It’s a nice distraction, but there are days I just can’t.

Like today.  I just can’t.

Do something else

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Things I should be doing:

  1. Working, because that’s what I get paid to do and it’s the middle of the day (or it was when I wrote this).

Things I should be doing that will make me feel better:

  1. Looking for a new job.
  2. Reading my book. Sadly, this one doesn’t belong on this list right now.  Reading this particular book does NOT make me feel better.  It’s depressing, which is sometimes okay (memoir, sucky childhood), but it’s also not written very well.  I should probably put it down.
  3. Re-learning how to play my ukulele.
  4. Taking a walk.

Not my day

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I hit myself in the face with headphones today.  Not earbuds, no.  Big headphones that cover your ears and have a really hard plastic piece that goes over your head from ear to ear.  That kind of headphones.  How did I hit myself in the nose with them?  WHILE I was wearing them?  I really don’t know.  What I do know is that I have a bump with a small cut on it ON MY NOSE.  And it hurts.

I suppose I deserve being hit in the face because otherwise I had the perfect day OH WAIT NO I DIDN’T.  Work was stressful, and then – AND THEN – I locked my keys in the car.  I took my car key off my key ring and put in my pocket (because my key ring is bulky), and when I got back to the car, I pulled my HOUSE key out of my pocket because of course.  I couldn’t call John to come get me because we’re a single-car family now, and actually, I couldn’t call ANYONE because my phone was locked in the car with my keys.  I had to borrow a phone to call roadside assistance, and then I had to wait outside in the cold and the dark for 45 minutes until they came.  It could have been worse.  I spent part of the time saying hi to some horses who put their heads over a nearby fence and I played with a dog.  But it really was dark and cold.

I had to go to the grocery store after that (because of course again), and then I got home and baked banana bread (that helped) and had scrambled eggs and toast for dinner (that helped more), but then I hit myself in the face.

So now I’m going to bed.

I could use some sunshine

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I’m going to stick to my theme of inanity, which I’m sure won’t surprise anyone, but it means I may need another day off. I’m in an airport again, writing this on my phone (which is going surprisingly well). Traffic sucked getting here, so we had that stress on top of last night’s disappointment.  The weather is gloomy to match our moods. I’ll be looking for puppies and kittens, real or virtual, to make me feel better. Actually, that’s been backfiring lately, too. Puppies and kittens make me think of Roxy and Riley, and that’s STILL too raw.

Were you looking for depressing inanity today? Glad I could help.

I am disappoint

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The universe is letting me down.  Three summers ago, I got all excited about this tap class I was going to take.  I went to the first class, it was great, and then the instructor had a family emergency and the class got cancelled.  Major bummer.  Shortly after that, we got busy with moving and everything, and then we got here, and I looked into tap classes again.  It’s hard to find adult tap classes for beginners, and I’d rather not join a class with toddlers.  I found a studio that offered exactly what I wanted, called, and they told me that the class would start in July.  Great!  So excited.  I remembered this past weekend, checked their website – yup, beginner adult tap scheduled to start this very Tuesday.  As in TODAY.

So, TODAY, I called.  I wanted to be sure it was actually starting, find out how much it was going to cost, what I should wear, if there’s anything else I should know….and the answer to the last bit was yes.  There was something else I should know, and THAT is that the class is NOT for beginners.  Apparently, there wasn’t enough interest, so it’s an intermediate class, continuing where the class from last spring left off.  I have learned that I cannot fake my way through an intermediate dance class, so that’s out.  I left messages at a couple of other places, but there just aren’t very many.  The university and the community college aren’t any help, either.

Frustration is my new state of being.

More phone drama

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I just can’t get enough of the phone drama, apparently.  Over the weekend, John did some googling and found that yes, our phones ARE unlocked, and yes, our phones CAN work with any carrier.  The solution (according to online sources) is to go to a Sprint store with a repair center, where they will have to add my phone to the network and possibly find me a new SIM card.  We tested that solution today.

At a different Sprint store, I handed my new phone over to a guy who disappeared into a back room with it.  Ten minutes later, he came out and said sorry, your phone isn’t compatible with the Sprint network.  I tried to get him to explain why.  He didn’t know.  I asked him who might know.  He didn’t know.  I asked him to point me in the direction of someone who might know.  He disappeared into the back again.  A techie (I assume) came out to talk to us.

He was much more personable, but the bottom line appears to be that because my phone isn’t ALREADY on Sprint’s list of approved phones, it cannot be added.  (This is the opposite of what two people told me before I made last week’s trip to the Sprint store, which is why I a) bought a phone from someone other than Sprint, and  b) went to the store in the first place.)  He went so far as to say there’s no reason he’s aware of why it COULDN’T be on the list, but he isn’t capable of adding it.  Who is?  Maybe someone in corporate, he says, but no one he or I could get in touch with.  Not one to give up, I pushed a bit more.

Eventually, he entered a ticket with I-don’t-know-who (hopefully not the same I-don’t-know-who from last week), and he says I should know within 72 hours if THEY approved adding my phone to the network.

Sprint may have lost us as customers (after 13 YEARS) either way*.  If they add my phone to the network, we can be lazier about finding another carrier (I’m considering the Project Fi thing with Google), but I think it’ll happen.  If they don’t add my phone, that’s getting done SOON.

*Yes, I started to play the lost customer card, but it only triggered  sales pitch for other phones.  Missing the point, dude.

Things I don’t understand

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I don’t know a lot of things, obviously, and that will always be the case because who can ever know everything?  But I think that if I learn something, or someone explains something to me, I’m capable of understanding it.  I feel like that should be true of EVERYTHING.  I’m intelligent and curious.  Tell me, and I’ll understand.

There are exceptions.

Things/actions I don’t understand:

  • People who wear make-up to work out
  • People who wear perfume/cologne to work out
  • People who don’t wave/nod/smile/say good morning back
  • Acquiring a taste for something
  • People who cut in line (there are some exceptions, but they require explanations and politeness)
  • Dog-walkers who don’t clean up after their dogs
  • Drivers who don’t use their turn signals

This may be Part 1 of an ongoing series, but for now, those are the big ones.

Companies suck

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I am SO irritated right now.  We chose Mayflower as our moving company for three reasons, in order:

  1. They were the cheapest.
  2. Their delivery window was 7 to 14 days after they pick up our stuff, not 5 to 25 days like the other two companies we spoke to.
  3. They told us we could get the no-earlier-than delivery date moved out to give us more time to get there.

We were counting on that third point to give us at least an extra day.  The sales guy told us we could do that, and when I talked to our move coordinator on Monday (Tuesday?), she told us we could do that.  I thought it was all settled.  I sent her an email last night to confirm that our delivery window would be 8-14 days instead of 7-14 days.

She called me this morning, confused and not sure what I was talking about.  I reminded her of our conversation earlier in the week, when we discussed our preferred delivery date.  Today, she told me that she can make those notes, but she has no control over that.  She can tell me that, based on the weather, she’s pretty sure the driver won’t arrive on the 7th day, so we should be fine.

THAT IS NOT THE SAME THING.

Basically, the preferred arrival date thing is bullshit.  It was bullshit when the sales guy told us, and it was bullshit when I discussed it with our coordinator on Monday or Tuesday, and it’s bullshit now.

Yes, we probably would have chosen Mayflower for reasons 1 and 2 (and possibly just for reason 1), but COME ON!  We had multiple conversations with our sales dude about it.  What if we were counting on having 10 days to get there?

I voiced my anger and then got over it.  Well, I stopped taking it out on her.  I’m not over it.  Partly over it.  I will also be calling my sales guy.

This is bullshit.

I want to ride a bike, too!

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There’s this local radio commercial out right now that I cannot stand.  It’s for LASIK (or some variation of laser eye surgery), so I get what they’re trying to do, but it puts my back up.  It goes something like this:

It’s summer!  Time to go to the beach, go to the pool, go golfing, etc.!  Unless you’re one of the unfortunates who wear glasses or contacts, of course.  (Cue muted trumpet wah-wah-wah.)

I wish I were kidding about the muted trumpet.  I don’t get offended easily, and maybe “offended” isn’t the right word, but my immediate reaction to this commercial (knee-jerk and both times I’ve heard it) is to yell not-nice things at the radio (with accompanying rude gestures).  It’s like they can only imagine three options:

  1. People who wear glasses or contacts can’t go (aren’t allowed?) to the beach, pool, golfing, etc.
  2. People who wear glasses or contacts can go to those places, but they won’t (can’t?) enjoy themselves.
  3. People who wear glasses or contacts can go to those places, but they have to leave their prescription eyewear at home, so they won’t be able to see anything and thus won’t be able to enjoy themselves.

This commercial does NOT inspire me to run out and fix my eyes.  And if I were considering it, I wouldn’t choose them.  It reminds me a little bit of those tampon commercials that assume women wearing pads can’t do normal, everyday activities, except I think those were kind of funny.

I should have checked it myself

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I went to the eye doctor Friday afternoon, got my new prescriptions (glasses and contacts), and spent a few minutes trying on a ton of frames.  I narrowed it down to three, but it was the end of the week and I didn’t want to make any more decisions that day and besides, I wanted John’s opinion since he has to look at me, so I asked them to save the three I liked so I could come back this weekend.  I had the same conversation with TWO people who work there.  I said I would come back Saturday or Sunday.  I definitely listed BOTH days as possibilities.  NEITHER of them thought to say, “But we’re closed Sunday.”  Since they didn’t say it, I assumed they’d be open.  Silly me, assuming things.  I didn’t bother checking online to see if they’d be open on Sunday because I had TWO conversations with employees about how I might come back on Sunday to buy frames and THEY DIDN’T TELL ME THE PLACE WOULD BE CLOSED.  (I’m mildly annoyed.)

John and I got in the car, drove over to the place, found it locked.  Yup, the hours listed clearly say it’s closed on Sundays.  Tomorrow, I’ll call first.  I had a conversation with the guy showing me frames on Friday about how I have Monday off, and he specifically said he doesn’t, that he’d be working, so I’m pretty sure they’re open tomorrow, but I have learned my lesson.  You can’t trust anybody these days.

Common courtesy

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Is it so unusual for people who are selling their houses to actually be living in them?  To actually request a heads up before someone comes to see the house, particularly if it’s a weekend or an evening?  I mean, we make plans, too.  We eat meals, we shower – we’d like to be sure that we and the house are ready.  I imagine most people selling a house are in the same boat.  But every agent who calls to set up a showing seems surprised and put out that we live there.  We ask for a window of time when they expect to show up so we can make sure we’ll be there or that the house is ready.  We have NEVER said no – we’ve always managed to accommodate them.  And then they so rarely actually show up during that window.  TWICE an agent has called to say they’re running late and/or not coming, and we think they’re angels for doing that.  That’s how low the bar is right now.

Yesterday, an agent called to set up a showing  between 11 and noon this morning (Saturday).  No problem.  We were ready at 11.  It’s 12:30 now.  Around 12:15, I called her to see if 1) they’re still coming, and 2) if she could give us an idea when that might be.  I’m always super nice about that call – I get that they’re looking at a lot of houses and a schedule is hard to keep to.  So they’re still coming, and she thinks it’ll be near 1.  We’ll see.  A courteous person would have noticed the time (maybe around 11:45), realized they weren’t going to make the window, and called us first to let us know and see if we could wait or arrange another time.  OF COURSE, we’re going to be accommodating – we want to sell our house.  Just, you know, CALL us to let us know you’ll be late.

I know not all real estate agents are pushy and rude and inconsiderate (they just can’t ALL be like that),  but it seems like those who aren’t are in the minority.  A very small minority.  Where are they?

Flaky agent

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We like our real estate agent, mostly.  He’s a little odd, but in an interesting way, and he talks too much (when we get back from being out during an open house, we want you to go home so we can relax), but he’s nice, and he’s giving us a discount, and he’s doing the hard part of selling our house for us (except that he hasn’t sold our house yet).

HOWEVER

At least three times (I think four, but I can only think of the reasons he gave for three), he has flaked on us for an open house.  The first time, his mom broke her leg, and he was the son in charge of getting her to the hospital and helping out. We totally get it, sorry it happened, do what you need to do, we’ll do the open house ourselves.  No problem.  The second time is the one I don’t remember the reason for.  The third time was two weeks ago.  I got a text 45 minutes before the open house was supposed to begin saying that he was stuck in traffic in Maryland and would get there as soon as he could.  Then he didn’t respond to my next text, and he didn’t answer when I called.  So we started the open house ourselves, and when it was halfway over, I texted him again to tell him to just skip it – go home.  He didn’t respond.  Later, we got an email about the horrendous traffic and how he’s so sorry and blah blah.  Sure, things happen.  But seriously?  Where the hell was he exactly, and why stop responding to me?  The fourth time was today.  About 90 minutes before the open house was scheduled to start, I got a text from him saying his dad is having chest pains and he’s going to the hospital to be there for him.  My response, again, is of course, I hope he’s okay, do what you need to do, we’ll handle the open house ourselves.  No response.  And we haven’t heard from him since.

So what’s going on?  We’re no longer certain when he’s being truthful.  Are these excuses to not do the open houses?  We’ve told him we understand if he doesn’t want to do it every single weekend.  He could get someone to cover for him (which he’s done once) or we could take a week off.  He’s the agent – what should we do?  He says keep doing them.  Okay, then.  He keeps sign in sheets when he does show up for them, but we never see them (we haven’t asked yet), and it seems like every week, 5-6 people come through (so he tells us when we get home).  But on those occasions when we do the open houses, we get one person.  Maybe two (it was two today).  So how is he always getting 5-6 people in?  Last week, he did the open house, and he said only two people came, so that felt true (even if it sucks).  Are the other times exaggerations?  Or the truth?

Making an effort to relax (Is that an oxymoron?) (YOU’RE an oxymoron.)

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I don’t want to be stressed.  So I’m declaring the house a stress-free zone.  (We’ll ignore the fact that the house is part of the problem.)  I don’t want to mix home-time with the outside world.  I’d like to come home and just relax.  If it’s not in the house, I don’t want to think about it.  Tonight has been a good start.  John was home when I got home, and we sat down to eat.  Watched an hour of TV, and now we’re listening to classical music and playing on our laptops at the dining room table.  Bedtime is not far off (tomorrow morning starts at 4:45), and tomorrow night I might try going back to yoga.  I want time that is quiet and peaceful and smells like lavender.  (I always want to spell “lavender” like “calendar”, but I get to the -dar at the end, realize it’s wrong, wonder why it’s wrong, change it, and move on.  Every time.)

If I have to deal with winter (it got dark so EARLY), I want my winter to be warm and cozy and quiet and relaxing and you know, since our house isn’t selling, that doesn’t seem like too much to ask.  I want to stay HOME.

Nervous

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I’m not afraid of my boss.  She and I see eye to eye on most things, we get along well, I know I’m a valued employee, blah blah blah.  But some days, when she sends me an email asking me if I have a few minutes, or if I can come by her office to talk, I get nervous.  Like I’m being called to the principal’s office.  Like I’m in trouble.  Have I done anything?  Not that I’m aware of, but I’ll start to get paranoid about something small, something that no one would get in trouble for, but maybe it’s something I thought twice about doing.  Not once have I ever gone to her office and found that I AM in trouble, that I HAVE done something wrong.  Will I ever grow out of that?

There’s no way it’ll be this easy

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We got an interesting call this afternoon.  Since we took the house off the market around Thanksgiving last fall, we’ve been dodging two or three calls a day from local realtors trying to get us to list with them.  We almost never answer the house phone anymore because it’s ALWAYS a real estate agent.  We’re going to go back on the market, but we’re going to sell it ourselves.  Anyway, I got distracted while working from home today, and I picked up the phone when it rang.  It was someone in real estate asking us if we were still looking to sell our home because she might have some potential buyers.  Hm.  She asked if we’d like her agent to call us.  Sure.  I hung up.  John said there’s no way they actually have interested buyers – this must be another ploy to get us to list with them.  Well, I can get rid of them if that’s the case.  So then we got another call.  I recognized the name as an agent who showed our house once last fall when our regular agent wasn’t available (actually, she didn’t – a junior member of her team did), although she didn’t remember us until a few minutes in.  Anyway, she has buyers looking in our area.  I told her we’re listing it ourselves and we aren’t really ready to go back on the market just yet, but we’re close.  And I said if they’re in a rush, given some notice, we might be able to prep the house to show it to them sooner, but we’ll definitely need notice because we are NOT show-ready now.  I didn’t tell her our master bathroom is still without a toilet (currently hanging out in the office) and vanity.  Hopefully we’ll have finished the bathroom before anyone wants to see it.  If not, well, we’ll just tell them our plan and hope it doesn’t scare them away.  John is spackling.  Then we can paint.  I would really like to have the bathroom back together by the end of the weekend.

Oh, she asked what we’re asking for it.  Yeah…we haven’t really talked about that yet.  So I told her I could tell her what we listed it for last fall, and that we’d probably start in that ballpark this time, too.  Hope that was okay. What am I saying?  Of course it was okay.  These buyers, whoever they are, are not going to want our house.  That’s how this is going to go, assuming this wasn’t some diabolical plot by our former agent to sabotage our For Sale By Owner plans and sneak back in as the listing agent through her colleagues.

There’s just no way.

But wouldn’t it be nice?