I had several phone calls to make, ones that I always try to delay as long as possible.
The call waiting times are painful and by the time you reach a person, she/he has been waiting for a break, like forever, and the pain shifts to another level.
Today I called my insurance company twice.
I called the dental plan folk.
I called the vision folk twice, because I got disconnected. Once.
Only one of the calls gifted me with a cranky break-waiter-probably have starved to death agent. I pursued her calm center until she finally broke and set her crankiness aside.
Along with that call, the others did have nice people on the receiving end and I was able to get through several steps of voice mail information to folk who knew their stuff and were able to answer my queries.
Plus, I had to talk to the people downstairs. Sounds like a horror flick, and it mostly is just that scary. I took the easy way and waited until the woman had left for work, as she is easily the most selfish part of that couple. I swear, when she is drunk she is a bully and when she is sober she becomes super-bully. I swear. The man is nice when sober, so I pulled up my big girl panties and knocked on their door after I walked home from the dentist.
I digress, but being able to walk to the dentist is one of the nicer things about living in a relatively small village. One of the not-so-nice things is that they do not have any dollar stores. Alas.
So, anyway, the man and I talked about snow removal this coming season and I told him to let me know if there were any problems with the sidewalks...my part of the job...because I was not going to be able to shovel much, if at all, and have hired someone to come over and plow the snow away each time it snows. Which, I guess, is the only time I would need him.
Then, the man said that he would do the whole thing, that he should have offered to do it when I first moved here. He has a snow blower and uses it on a space not quite equal to what I shovel. I told him that I would pay him the cost of having the plow guy do the work and he declined, but I convinced him that it was important for me to pay my way.
Now I just have to cancel the plow guy.
The second thing, and the one I most especially did not want to talk about with his wife, is that I need to use my half of the storage space in the basement. Again, no problems with him.
All in all, except for my blood sugar dipping too low, it has been a nice day.
Nice.
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
Sunday, September 20, 2015
to sleep
perchance to dream.
Insomnia is a vertiginous lucidity that can convert paradise itself into a place of torture.
I lost my sleep, and this is the greatest tragedy that can befall someone. It is much worse than sitting in prison.
The night is the hardest time to be alive and 4am knows all my secrets.
I could go on and on and on because I cannot sleep. Triggered when the downstairs folk have time for their two to four hours alcohol induced fights, knock-downs and generally sloppy arguments.
Their most recent performance was a bit more than three weeks ago. I finally, after nearly a year of living here, found the courage and/or stupidity to go down there and ask them to be quiet, which did not turn out so well for me, and of which I think I have already shared. Even if I have not, it is not worth the ink to type it.
I have tried everything. Meditation, herbs and chamomile tea, over-the-counter pills and tablets. I have stayed up all night, and then forced tons of caffeine beverages to stay up until a my usual bedtime. I do stay awake all those thirty hours or so and then keep sleeping until mid-afternoon the next day. Today I slept until after 5:00 p.m.
I see my internist next week and will ask for help, but between my back and lack of sleep, well, to be honest (which I always am anyway, but sleep deprivation is making me defensive) I am quite the mess. I look it, too.
And, it should not be all that problematic, being retired and all. Still, I would love to be awake for whole days in a row, a very long row. And, I have to work this out because the trigger to this is not going anywhere, and neither am I. Finances are keeping me here. Our landlord does not want to be bothered and told me to just call the police every time this happens. In his defense, he is sympathetic and has spoken to them several times about this, but neither of us wants to turn this in to actual trouble.
And, the first time I call the police, it is pretty much over.
In between the bouts, there exists a kind of détente that I would not like to disturb. All I want to do is sleep.
I am, however, reading an insane amount of books.
Shakespeare
Emil Cioran
Emil Cioran
Poppy Z. Brite
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
promotions
I have hung onto my smarter-than-me phone for a few years. When I stopped being without any resources, getting that phone was one of the second layer of things I brought into my life.
It was inexpensive when I got the phone, but I soon found out that the phone company agent lied to me about contracts and fees and options, particularly those that would have been a better choice for someone like me. I am not a gamer, nor do I watch videos/fillums on my phone. I just needed a simple phone with some data options so that I could look up information for my clients when I was working with them outside of my office/batcave.
Thus began the courting dance of promotions that the phone company offered every time they raised my fees to a point where I could no longer afford to have the phone.
I was wooed each year when the most current promotion ended. Each new promotion was a few dollars more than the previous one, and I kept on using that phone and company because it was easier to just pay five dollars more each time. Even thinking about finding a new provider was more work and stress than I could handle. Still cannot handle.
So, anyway, yesterday I received a letter that the promotion I had was ending in a few days...yikes...and I should call to talk to them. I did that, and, as usual, the monthly fees were going up and the amount of data was decreasing. Factor in that the woman on the phone was no all that nice, and true to past experiences I was soon reduced to tears. I know that she and all of the rest of their agents are simply doing their jobs, and it certainly is not a great process or result to bully their customers into feeling stupid and disloyal by not immediately jumping for joy and saying, "Oh, goody, thank you so much for pricing this phone out of my budget."
This afternoon I just lost it, control and any chance to not fall apart. I asked to just leave everything as it was and asked if I could call back. I managed myself back into calmness and tear-free moments and went to my computer to look for a new phone provider. There was not any way that I could afford the new promotion fees without cutting something from my budget, but the maze of companies and plans is mind-numbingly complicated.
I opened several tabs so that I could try to compare companies and plans. All that fine print makes the process more difficult than it seems it should be, but I guess the companies have their reasons for that. I nearly gave up and called my provider back to just cancel the phone immediately and pay their termination fee, which came as a surprise because I did not realize a year ago that I contracted for two years with their company.
Shows what an incompetent consumer I am. Hell, I try my best, but there you are. There I was.
I finally called them back and the new person with whom I spoke offered to waive part of the termination fee if I took a pre-paid plan. Well, the monthly cost is fifteen dollars less than going with the new promotion, has exactly the same plan benefits as the other plan and I have some breathing space to really research and find a cell phone provider and plan that costs even less.
I am not particularly dumb, at least about things like this, technology and stuff, but if one is already feeling vulnerable and at risk, trying to make the best decision under that kind of personal duress is just plain, too difficult. I am sure that I am not the only person who struggles with these sorts of choices. Yay and good for all of us who wrestle with making the best financial choices we can.
Making any kind of choices can be challenging for folk like me. I have come so far in healing and recovery from that other life, but I still stumble over stuff like this once in a while. Now that it is over, for the time being, I am feeling better and maybe a bit stronger or something.
Every day is a new beginning for me. A new day when I never know what might pop up to move me away from stability and peace of mind. Whatever.
New information about how to handle things like this and a phone that I can continue to use. Not bad for a crappy day.
It was inexpensive when I got the phone, but I soon found out that the phone company agent lied to me about contracts and fees and options, particularly those that would have been a better choice for someone like me. I am not a gamer, nor do I watch videos/fillums on my phone. I just needed a simple phone with some data options so that I could look up information for my clients when I was working with them outside of my office/batcave.
Thus began the courting dance of promotions that the phone company offered every time they raised my fees to a point where I could no longer afford to have the phone.
I was wooed each year when the most current promotion ended. Each new promotion was a few dollars more than the previous one, and I kept on using that phone and company because it was easier to just pay five dollars more each time. Even thinking about finding a new provider was more work and stress than I could handle. Still cannot handle.
So, anyway, yesterday I received a letter that the promotion I had was ending in a few days...yikes...and I should call to talk to them. I did that, and, as usual, the monthly fees were going up and the amount of data was decreasing. Factor in that the woman on the phone was no all that nice, and true to past experiences I was soon reduced to tears. I know that she and all of the rest of their agents are simply doing their jobs, and it certainly is not a great process or result to bully their customers into feeling stupid and disloyal by not immediately jumping for joy and saying, "Oh, goody, thank you so much for pricing this phone out of my budget."
This afternoon I just lost it, control and any chance to not fall apart. I asked to just leave everything as it was and asked if I could call back. I managed myself back into calmness and tear-free moments and went to my computer to look for a new phone provider. There was not any way that I could afford the new promotion fees without cutting something from my budget, but the maze of companies and plans is mind-numbingly complicated.
I opened several tabs so that I could try to compare companies and plans. All that fine print makes the process more difficult than it seems it should be, but I guess the companies have their reasons for that. I nearly gave up and called my provider back to just cancel the phone immediately and pay their termination fee, which came as a surprise because I did not realize a year ago that I contracted for two years with their company.
Shows what an incompetent consumer I am. Hell, I try my best, but there you are. There I was.
I finally called them back and the new person with whom I spoke offered to waive part of the termination fee if I took a pre-paid plan. Well, the monthly cost is fifteen dollars less than going with the new promotion, has exactly the same plan benefits as the other plan and I have some breathing space to really research and find a cell phone provider and plan that costs even less.
I am not particularly dumb, at least about things like this, technology and stuff, but if one is already feeling vulnerable and at risk, trying to make the best decision under that kind of personal duress is just plain, too difficult. I am sure that I am not the only person who struggles with these sorts of choices. Yay and good for all of us who wrestle with making the best financial choices we can.
Making any kind of choices can be challenging for folk like me. I have come so far in healing and recovery from that other life, but I still stumble over stuff like this once in a while. Now that it is over, for the time being, I am feeling better and maybe a bit stronger or something.
Every day is a new beginning for me. A new day when I never know what might pop up to move me away from stability and peace of mind. Whatever.
New information about how to handle things like this and a phone that I can continue to use. Not bad for a crappy day.
Sunday, August 30, 2015
texting with my daughter
after the monkey boys are down for the night.
Her: Did u c the sun?
Me: What is this thing you call the sun?
Her: Like the moon, but it's warmer.
Me: Huh. If you say so it must be so. Is this some new kind of science?
And, no, I did not see it. Did you lose it?
Her: Yes. It is called sphere science, which means round, sort of. It is the study of all round stuff.
Me: Like watermelon?
Me: I like watermelon, but they are cold. Like the moon.
Her: Only the round little seedless ones. The oblong ones fall under oval science.
Me: Oh. You are so wise.
Her: Yeah. I go to collàge.
Her: Did u c the sun?
Me: What is this thing you call the sun?
Her: Like the moon, but it's warmer.
Me: Huh. If you say so it must be so. Is this some new kind of science?
And, no, I did not see it. Did you lose it?
Her: Yes. It is called sphere science, which means round, sort of. It is the study of all round stuff.
Me: Like watermelon?
Me: I like watermelon, but they are cold. Like the moon.
Her: Only the round little seedless ones. The oblong ones fall under oval science.
Me: Oh. You are so wise.
Her: Yeah. I go to collàge.
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Harper Collins does not suck
The end of that tale is that someone or some system at HC got all wonkified and e-mails were sent out in error...apparently...that the book was out of stock and had to be back ordered.
Yeah. Old news. But, in the midst of messaging back and forth with an actual person working for the publisher, I received an e-mail from someone who assured me that he/she/it was happy that I was going to keep my order for software (ordered a book) and that because they never know what future books will cost they cannot honor my request for a 20% discount on future purchase(s). The discount was offered by the real person, not something I requested, and I had written back that I do not really buy books anymore, so I would not be using the offered-by-them discount.
End of story. Go Set A Watchman was a very good book. I have since heard from other folk that they did not like the book, one person refused to even talk about it, and that they had read many negative reviews about it. I am thinking that it might be that I was alive and living that period of society and racism and that that might be why I love the book so much. Whatever.
The thing that brings me back to write is the need to write something out of my mind and body. The couple in the downstairs flat have never stopped fighting. For months it was relatively not so bad. The fights would start. Would go on for a bit and since I was awake I took advantage of being awake and used the bathroom. After a while, I could affect the noise level of the fights by just getting up right away and walking loudly to the bathroom.
Several times this month alone there have been longer and louder fights no matter how much I try to make my presence known. I find it really difficult to believe that I can hear so much of what happens down there and they seem to be unable to hear me, although to be honest, it is still a disturbing experience and that sort of keeps me more quiet than I ordinarily am.
Today it began outside, as it sometimes does. I cannot imagine what that is about, but it happens. Getting up did nothing and the fight began at 2:30 a.m. and continued inside and outdoors until I could not bear all of the swearing and yelling and crying. So, I pulled up my big girl panties, shoved myself into a pair of slacks, put on a jacket over my night shirt and went downstairs.
The short story is that I walked to the front of the house and waited until they noticed me from where they were arguing on the porch. When they did, I asked if there was anything I could do to help and he apologized and said he was trying to stay quiet and she started yelling about it was all her fault and when I stepped on the the first step and said that it probably was not, she began yelling at me. That this was none of my business. To mind my own business and to just go away and mind my own business. I stepped down, turned and began the walk back to the side door. She kept yelling about this was not my business and I turned back. She stopped and I told her that it really was sort of my business because "this" happens all the time and it means that I am woken and cannot go back to sleep.
Silence. So, I came back upstairs. I was shaking and beginning to cry and quickly closed and locked my door. I was a while before I could stop shaking and it bothers me so much how difficult is was to go down there, what a risk and danger it felt like. But, that is what my landlord has been encouraging me to do, even though I no longer mention the fights to him, he asks me about the situation every time I see him.
There is no reason I should still be so fearful of the fighting. For fuck's sake, it has been three years now since that other life and I have been working my fucking ass off working to recover and heal from all that crap and when I finally find a nice place to live, here in the village where my daughter and her family live, I am still hearing all of that crap.
But, that is not about me, nor is it directed to me. I have talked to both of them several times in the past six months after finally gathering the courage to share how this affects me with them. Nothing has worked, not really. Today's fight began, what, 2:30 and I went down there at 4:00 and there have been several really loud part of the continuing fight, which finally seems to be over as of quarter past five. My guess is that they are tired and need sleep so that they can go to work in the morning. They get over it.
Here I sit, spewing this out, trying to release the panic. I have stopped being all shaky. Have a headache and wonder how much coffee it will take to keep me going for the rest of the day. It is nearly 6:00 a.m., early for me to get up. Oh, yeah, I am already up.
I am partly angry with them, still am concerned about their welfare, and really pissed at myself for being bothered by any of this. It is time for me to be over feeling so scared and vulnerable when someone else is fighting. In one aspect I admire them for standing up to each other. I could never do that. I could not answer back or defend myself, much less fight back. Maybe things would have been different if I had challenged his behavior. I will never know, so it is stupid to ponder what might have been.
I have already signed a new lease for the next year. Just did that a few weeks back, so I am stuck here unless I come up with some ideas about how to raise money, find a job or something to buy my way out of the lease.
So stupid. Out of the fire, for sure, but only flipped out into the ashy part on the edges where the flames nip at my ass as I cower there. Okey-dokey. Done. Fuck.
Yeah. Old news. But, in the midst of messaging back and forth with an actual person working for the publisher, I received an e-mail from someone who assured me that he/she/it was happy that I was going to keep my order for software (ordered a book) and that because they never know what future books will cost they cannot honor my request for a 20% discount on future purchase(s). The discount was offered by the real person, not something I requested, and I had written back that I do not really buy books anymore, so I would not be using the offered-by-them discount.
End of story. Go Set A Watchman was a very good book. I have since heard from other folk that they did not like the book, one person refused to even talk about it, and that they had read many negative reviews about it. I am thinking that it might be that I was alive and living that period of society and racism and that that might be why I love the book so much. Whatever.
The thing that brings me back to write is the need to write something out of my mind and body. The couple in the downstairs flat have never stopped fighting. For months it was relatively not so bad. The fights would start. Would go on for a bit and since I was awake I took advantage of being awake and used the bathroom. After a while, I could affect the noise level of the fights by just getting up right away and walking loudly to the bathroom.
Several times this month alone there have been longer and louder fights no matter how much I try to make my presence known. I find it really difficult to believe that I can hear so much of what happens down there and they seem to be unable to hear me, although to be honest, it is still a disturbing experience and that sort of keeps me more quiet than I ordinarily am.
Today it began outside, as it sometimes does. I cannot imagine what that is about, but it happens. Getting up did nothing and the fight began at 2:30 a.m. and continued inside and outdoors until I could not bear all of the swearing and yelling and crying. So, I pulled up my big girl panties, shoved myself into a pair of slacks, put on a jacket over my night shirt and went downstairs.
The short story is that I walked to the front of the house and waited until they noticed me from where they were arguing on the porch. When they did, I asked if there was anything I could do to help and he apologized and said he was trying to stay quiet and she started yelling about it was all her fault and when I stepped on the the first step and said that it probably was not, she began yelling at me. That this was none of my business. To mind my own business and to just go away and mind my own business. I stepped down, turned and began the walk back to the side door. She kept yelling about this was not my business and I turned back. She stopped and I told her that it really was sort of my business because "this" happens all the time and it means that I am woken and cannot go back to sleep.
Silence. So, I came back upstairs. I was shaking and beginning to cry and quickly closed and locked my door. I was a while before I could stop shaking and it bothers me so much how difficult is was to go down there, what a risk and danger it felt like. But, that is what my landlord has been encouraging me to do, even though I no longer mention the fights to him, he asks me about the situation every time I see him.
There is no reason I should still be so fearful of the fighting. For fuck's sake, it has been three years now since that other life and I have been working my fucking ass off working to recover and heal from all that crap and when I finally find a nice place to live, here in the village where my daughter and her family live, I am still hearing all of that crap.
But, that is not about me, nor is it directed to me. I have talked to both of them several times in the past six months after finally gathering the courage to share how this affects me with them. Nothing has worked, not really. Today's fight began, what, 2:30 and I went down there at 4:00 and there have been several really loud part of the continuing fight, which finally seems to be over as of quarter past five. My guess is that they are tired and need sleep so that they can go to work in the morning. They get over it.
Here I sit, spewing this out, trying to release the panic. I have stopped being all shaky. Have a headache and wonder how much coffee it will take to keep me going for the rest of the day. It is nearly 6:00 a.m., early for me to get up. Oh, yeah, I am already up.
I am partly angry with them, still am concerned about their welfare, and really pissed at myself for being bothered by any of this. It is time for me to be over feeling so scared and vulnerable when someone else is fighting. In one aspect I admire them for standing up to each other. I could never do that. I could not answer back or defend myself, much less fight back. Maybe things would have been different if I had challenged his behavior. I will never know, so it is stupid to ponder what might have been.
I have already signed a new lease for the next year. Just did that a few weeks back, so I am stuck here unless I come up with some ideas about how to raise money, find a job or something to buy my way out of the lease.
So stupid. Out of the fire, for sure, but only flipped out into the ashy part on the edges where the flames nip at my ass as I cower there. Okey-dokey. Done. Fuck.
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
update on the update
It will have to wait until later, but I just received another e-mail from the HC folk.
This is turning into a cool story. Might have to give it to one of my characters.
This is turning into a cool story. Might have to give it to one of my characters.
Update
According to Ms. (not sharing) at Harper Collins, the e-mail message approximately eighteen hours ago was an error.
I do not want to call baloney again, but when I checked in the wee hours, there was no traffic/shipping information in my account or the actual order.
According to the latest information, Go Set A Watchman/Harper Lee, should be here before 11:00 a.m. tomorrow morning.
And, for my understanding, they are offering me a 20% discount on a future order. Since I have not purchased any books, aside from thrift buys at fifty-cents or less, in nearly a decade, I am wondering if that offer will still be good in another ten years.
So, anyway, all those feelings of loss for nothing. I am still looney, a dope and recovering from being caught in the thrall of pettifogging. Quite frankly, I am a little prideful that I even know that word, much less thought to use it. Twice.
As I was eating dinner, way too many Brussels sprouts, I turned on the television and there was a program about Nelle Harper Lee and the release of this book. It was interesting, with perhaps the best part was her sister, Alice.
I am wondering if this is an older program, because it seems familiar, and I believe that Alice Finch Lee died a few years ago. Might have to research that, but no matter, because it was fresh and wonderful and Ms. Alice is wonderful and I could never tire of her voice.
Well, now that the Universe has recovered from my attack on its balance this morning, I await my copy tomorrow and look forward to a pot of tea, a bar of my favorite chocolate (honestly, could really be just about any brand), feet up, windows open and that sweet volume in my hands.
Lordy.
I do not want to call baloney again, but when I checked in the wee hours, there was no traffic/shipping information in my account or the actual order.
According to the latest information, Go Set A Watchman/Harper Lee, should be here before 11:00 a.m. tomorrow morning.
And, for my understanding, they are offering me a 20% discount on a future order. Since I have not purchased any books, aside from thrift buys at fifty-cents or less, in nearly a decade, I am wondering if that offer will still be good in another ten years.
So, anyway, all those feelings of loss for nothing. I am still looney, a dope and recovering from being caught in the thrall of pettifogging. Quite frankly, I am a little prideful that I even know that word, much less thought to use it. Twice.
As I was eating dinner, way too many Brussels sprouts, I turned on the television and there was a program about Nelle Harper Lee and the release of this book. It was interesting, with perhaps the best part was her sister, Alice.
I am wondering if this is an older program, because it seems familiar, and I believe that Alice Finch Lee died a few years ago. Might have to research that, but no matter, because it was fresh and wonderful and Ms. Alice is wonderful and I could never tire of her voice.
Well, now that the Universe has recovered from my attack on its balance this morning, I await my copy tomorrow and look forward to a pot of tea, a bar of my favorite chocolate (honestly, could really be just about any brand), feet up, windows open and that sweet volume in my hands.
Lordy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)