Thank you to all of the nice people (well, all two of you that I don't know IRL) who have inquired about my health & well-being. I am still alive & kicking (ask anyone who has had the misfortune to get in my way recently), but it's been one hell of a month.
Only one week into it & February is kicking. my. ass.
My office computer's hard drive decided that this was a good week to spontaneously combust (figuratively speaking), taking every little bit of information it contained along for the ride. I did have a back-up CD, although I hadn't actually updated it since just before Christmas. (Yes, I know, bad Shawn. Believe me, I've learned my lesson.) Turns out, it doesn't matter because that disk is MIA. Of course it is. Why was I even surprised? What didn't surprise me was the complete and utter lack of any kind of customer service from Dell. (Except for the charming & sympathetic William. Chris, if I ever leave you, I will be with William in the Philippines. He assures me the beaches are quite something.) I spoke to six people in four days, which is how long it took to receive a new hard drive that was "overnighted" on Monday. In the meantime, my boss decided that he would rather pay me sit at my desk and do, quite literally, nothing, rather than let me go home and work from there. And if you thought I was neurotic before, when I had things like deadlines and responsibilities to distract me? You have no idea how neurotic I can truly be when I have unlimited time to do nothing but think.
And I had plenty to think about, real estate-wise. I cannot even begin to address all of the issues that have come up with the sale of our house within the past week. But I would like to mention that every single one of them has been a result of some incompetent asshat not doing his or her job. I am so frustrated and sick of people right now, I haven't even been reading blogs. I KNOW! Can't get much worse than that, right? At one point earlier this week, I told Chris that I was considering a career change. To Unabomber. Not because of the whole letter bomb thing (although a few appraisers / Realtors / loan officers should be verrrrry careful right now. Kidding! I'm kidding! Please don't send the FBI to my house. Unless they would like to help us move, in which case we'll take any help we can get.), but because of the whole isolation-from-society-thing. Of course then I remembered that he lived in some little shack in the woods, and you know how I feel about Nature, which is where the dirt and bugs live. And besides, that would probably mean that I'd have to live more than 15 minutes from a Target, and, well, that's just completely unacceptable.
But don't worry, real estate didn't consume my every waking thought. There was my insurance company, whose claims line is apparently staffed by automatons that are only able to say, "You can find that information on the website," - which would be fine if I hadn't already looked on the website, which was woefully bereft of any kind of helpful information. Then there was my dentist, who would not release my x-rays and records on the grounds that "then the office won't have a copy", completely disregarding that new-fangled concept of photocopying. And let's not forget the utility company that attempted to hold me responsible for a delinquency from 12 years ago. In case you're wondering? The utility company supervisor could not possibly care less if you were living at the address at the time, or even in the same state, or if someone stole your identity, or if you have proof of all of the above, or even if Holy Mother of God, it was 12 years ago, are you kidding me? What he does care about is finding out that you work with two attorneys & are going to need his name in order to file a complaint. It's amazing how quickly that gets things cleared up. Oh, and did I mention that someone loosened / removed the lug nuts on my mom's tire? Luckily, the temperatures were well below zero over the past week and she wasn't been zipping around as much as usual (her last name should have been Andretti) before it was discovered. Otherwise . . . well, I'm trying not to think too much about what could have happened. Or about what kind of twisted person does something like that on purpose.
And, frankly, the Rolaids aren't helping, we're almost out of truffles*, I already packed my books & the liquor (I don't know what I was thinking either) & I've taken so many bubble baths, I look like a Shar-Pei puppy. I'm out of ideas, patience & fortitude. Do you think it would be possible to sleep through the rest of the month?
* Or as I refer to them, Chocolate Therapy. Unfortunately, Mary is rudely hoarding them for herself. Even more unfortunately, she needs them at least as much as I do. February is kicking everyone's ass.
Only one week into it & February is kicking. my. ass.
My office computer's hard drive decided that this was a good week to spontaneously combust (figuratively speaking), taking every little bit of information it contained along for the ride. I did have a back-up CD, although I hadn't actually updated it since just before Christmas. (Yes, I know, bad Shawn. Believe me, I've learned my lesson.) Turns out, it doesn't matter because that disk is MIA. Of course it is. Why was I even surprised? What didn't surprise me was the complete and utter lack of any kind of customer service from Dell. (Except for the charming & sympathetic William. Chris, if I ever leave you, I will be with William in the Philippines. He assures me the beaches are quite something.) I spoke to six people in four days, which is how long it took to receive a new hard drive that was "overnighted" on Monday. In the meantime, my boss decided that he would rather pay me sit at my desk and do, quite literally, nothing, rather than let me go home and work from there. And if you thought I was neurotic before, when I had things like deadlines and responsibilities to distract me? You have no idea how neurotic I can truly be when I have unlimited time to do nothing but think.
And I had plenty to think about, real estate-wise. I cannot even begin to address all of the issues that have come up with the sale of our house within the past week. But I would like to mention that every single one of them has been a result of some incompetent asshat not doing his or her job. I am so frustrated and sick of people right now, I haven't even been reading blogs. I KNOW! Can't get much worse than that, right? At one point earlier this week, I told Chris that I was considering a career change. To Unabomber. Not because of the whole letter bomb thing (although a few appraisers / Realtors / loan officers should be verrrrry careful right now. Kidding! I'm kidding! Please don't send the FBI to my house. Unless they would like to help us move, in which case we'll take any help we can get.), but because of the whole isolation-from-society-thing. Of course then I remembered that he lived in some little shack in the woods, and you know how I feel about Nature, which is where the dirt and bugs live. And besides, that would probably mean that I'd have to live more than 15 minutes from a Target, and, well, that's just completely unacceptable.
But don't worry, real estate didn't consume my every waking thought. There was my insurance company, whose claims line is apparently staffed by automatons that are only able to say, "You can find that information on the website," - which would be fine if I hadn't already looked on the website, which was woefully bereft of any kind of helpful information. Then there was my dentist, who would not release my x-rays and records on the grounds that "then the office won't have a copy", completely disregarding that new-fangled concept of photocopying. And let's not forget the utility company that attempted to hold me responsible for a delinquency from 12 years ago. In case you're wondering? The utility company supervisor could not possibly care less if you were living at the address at the time, or even in the same state, or if someone stole your identity, or if you have proof of all of the above, or even if Holy Mother of God, it was 12 years ago, are you kidding me? What he does care about is finding out that you work with two attorneys & are going to need his name in order to file a complaint. It's amazing how quickly that gets things cleared up. Oh, and did I mention that someone loosened / removed the lug nuts on my mom's tire? Luckily, the temperatures were well below zero over the past week and she wasn't been zipping around as much as usual (her last name should have been Andretti) before it was discovered. Otherwise . . . well, I'm trying not to think too much about what could have happened. Or about what kind of twisted person does something like that on purpose.
And, frankly, the Rolaids aren't helping, we're almost out of truffles*, I already packed my books & the liquor (I don't know what I was thinking either) & I've taken so many bubble baths, I look like a Shar-Pei puppy. I'm out of ideas, patience & fortitude. Do you think it would be possible to sleep through the rest of the month?
* Or as I refer to them, Chocolate Therapy. Unfortunately, Mary is rudely hoarding them for herself. Even more unfortunately, she needs them at least as much as I do. February is kicking everyone's ass.
Labels: must. sell. house., random ramblings, rants and raves, the office
3 Comments:
Poor Shawnee.... would you like to run away and come to south Georgia? We'll hide you in the condo until everything gets settled up there. :-)
Love to. If this isn't wrapped up within the next week, I'll be on the next plane south!
I'll provide the plane! :)
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