[2:00pm chat]
Me: You took my address and didn't send me anything, you charlatan!
Someone In New York: That's not true. It's probably waiting for you right now.
Me: Where'd you send it?
SINY: [verifies address]
Me: When did you send it?
SINY: January 14, before your last trip home.
Me: But it's the 30th. It should have been here by now. I'll check at the front desk, but they always bring my mail to my room. I even had mail waiting for me when I got back. It should've been there.
SINY: You have more mail problems than anyone else on earth.
- - -
[some time later, I call the hotel for boss on an unrelated matter]
Hotel: Oh, and did you get the candle we gave you?
Me: Yes, I've been wanting to talk to you about that.
Hotel: Oh, the maid was so upset about breaking your candle! We are so very, very sorry. We went ahead and got you a new one.
Me: Are you sure you have the right room? I didn't have any candles in the bathroom.
Hotel: Yes, the maid came down straight away from your room. She felt terrible about breaking your candle. We feel terrible. We're so sorry.
Me: But... I didn't have a candle in the bathroom...
Hotel: She dropped it in your bathtub. Her hands were wet from cleaning. She's really terribly sorry.
Me: Okay, but... I'm really pretty sure I didn't have any candles near my bathtub. I'm not missing any candles. I don't really even have any breakable candles.
Hotel: Well, if you do remember your candle, just go ahead and go buy a new one. We'll be very happy to reimburse you for any candle you want to buy. We're so sorry we broke yours.
- - -
[upon returning to my hotel room where there is no mail, I call the front desk]
Me: Is there any mail for me? A friend sent me something on January 14, but I haven't received it yet.
Front Desk: No, there's no mail here for you.
Me: Room 317? Are you sure?
Front Desk: Oh! Here's an envelope for you.
Me: Is it from New York?
Front Desk: I don't know. It doesn't say, no address, no name, just the room number. I guess that's why they didn't deliver it to you. [But this is how my mail usually arrives: bundled into one envelope, labled with my room number! They actually let it sit there for two weeks, all the while delivering my other envelopes of mail?! What wackiness!]
Front Desk: Oh, and something from Direct Loans, too.
---
GRRRRR!
January 2006 Archives
As a nutritionist I recommend Hershey's Extra Dark Pure Dark Chocolate with Cranberries, Blueberries and Almonds. I bought some last night along with some Kahlua Especial, but those are unrelated save for the fact they're both new versions of something I love. Yes, I will nod in approval if you eat a square or two or three of this chocolate every day. You may also choose one of the other flavors.
I should note I feel their information on this chocolate's antioxidant capacity is slightly misleading if only glanced at. Should you scroll down the page and read their frequently asked questions you'll get a more realistic picture. I'm sure it goes without saying that three squares of this dark chocolate does not nutritionally equate to 1 1/3 cup of blueberries. If it's one or the other, go for the blueberries!
My stomach has been hurting all day, in addition to the queasiness, so I was really not hungry. I haven't been eating a lot lately. So when My Boss wanted to go out for lunch, I thought maybe I could eat a few bites of something but nothing more. I told him I'd be happy to go with him but wasn't hungry.
Shortly thereafter he pulled into a sushi place. Just have some miso soup, he said. I did. And some green tea. "You didn't mark anything on the sushi menu," he pointed out. I told him maybe I'd have the sushi appetizer, but that was all, really. He gave me a look, took the menu from me and marked up a bunch of sushi. "You love yellowtail," he said. I agreed, I do. "And the caterpillar roll is your favorite. You like eel." "Unagi," I beamed. "I do!" Mark mark mark. He handed the menu back for me to add to. Oh no, I said, I couldn't eat any of that, I definitely didn't need more!
We got back in his car afterward, after miso soup, edamame, green tea, nigiri and maki sushi.
"You said you weren't going to be able to eat anything, so I thought I'd take you to a sushi restaurant," he said. Aww, I thought, how sweet! He knew I'd find sushi the most tempting, appetizing thing and took me there to ensure I'd eat!
"Yeah, I thought I might actually get a piece of sushi for myself this time," he said, teasing. Hmph!
Cheers to a wonderful man who makes me laugh and teases me so, and who knows just what I need--some sushi and a bit of care.
"What letter are you learning in school this week?
"Uh... I forgot what it's called."
"You forgot what it's called? What does it look like?"
"Well... it looks kind of like an N, but it doesn't have that line in it."
"Oh, is it a V?"
"No! It doesn't make a 'vvvv" sound!" (said with a 'duh' kind of tone. Like, obviously he knows the letter V)
"Oh. Hmm... Is it an H? Does it go 'hhhhat'?"
"No. Hmm... It's kind of like......Do you have anything stretchy? 'cause if you do, take it and kinda... bend the middle..."
"OH! It's a U!"
"Yeah! That's it!"
"Like 'umbrella'?"
"Yes!"
Life is so MEAN. It has a twisted sense of humour.
I interrupted an important, very heavy and emotionally draining, with very serious potential consequences (and no I am not exaggerating *or* whining; that's factual) discussion to go get my cookies. They were almost all GONE. None of my favorites, the smores ones. Not a single freakin' chocolate chip cookie, even. I stood there staring at my cookies, the one saving point in my day: A tray with a lot of crumbs and a few cookies that I (and obviously, everyone else) dislikes. I almost laughed, because it's funny... because I had my heart so set on those cookies, that I should be denied this one very small comfort...
I took some cookies anyway, out of spite. In actuality my stomach is churning and I'm more queasy than hungry. I came back to my room with my stupid icky cookies and laughed and cried at the same time.
Aw heck, what am I saying? Tuesdays are COOKIE NIGHTS at the hotel!! That's part of why I love Tuesdays so!
They are not fresh baked and definitely not as good as any cookies I'd make (or buy, for that matter), but they will definitely suffice when one isn't feeling up to getting food for herself. (Pathetic, I know, but everyone has moments of forgoing food for the effort it requires.) And they're here and they're free--and I HAVE MILK!
Whoohoo!
Lacking friends in the vicinity whose comfort I'd find--well, very comforting--a welcome distraction--
I want to stuff myself full of fresh baked cookies!
...but my oven still doesn't work!
I asked the hotel about it again. They said again they're going to fix it.
What a cruel world that a girl should be denied both friendly company AND cookies at a time such as this. HMPH.
If anyone has any good insurance advice, hit me with it! (Look, I'm *asking* for advice!)
I had been told in the past to get the minimal amount of coverage because my car wasn't worth insuring. The car I have now isn't horribly better. However, I've updated my insurance to be in accordance with Florida laws and things are different here. (This is boring, so the rest is tucked away under the extended entry.)
Wow. Someone left some ugly comments on my blog--three, to be exact. Just what I wanted to wake up to!
I could, of course, ban said person from further commenting. But I wonder, do I know this person? Why are they so angry? What were his motivations for commenting? But primarily, how can it be that my blog comes across this way to them, and the correlation: is there any truth to what he's saying? It would be arrogance and folly indeed, I think, to dimiss all criticism out of hand.
I've been attacked before. It's never pleasant, but I figure they're good opportunities to practice healthy self-esteem and graciousness, as well as open-mindedness, understanding, and tolerance. Besides, as with physical injury, I find the fascination exceeds the pain.
My other entry, regarding trentblase's comment, is still hanging mid-thought. I've actually kind of done some things today. Anyway, this will be brief because I'm typing with only my left hand. My right hand hurts. My wrist. And I am tough and can back this up with facts and testimonies, so when I say pain I mean real pain. Of course, this is more of the neverending-tiresome kind, the sort that's not so much excruciating as it is overwhelmingly neverending. --grr, can't find my entry on that.
It doesn't help that I've had over a week's worth now of occasional nausea and frequent exhaustion, despite the fact I've been getting no less than eight hour's sleep every night--usually more-- and have set a fairly regular sleep schedule. Some nights I'm too exhausted to get out of my chair. And when you couple this with some of the other symptoms which I do not care to spell out, it gets very worrisome. So not only have I not been feeling my best, but I've had a huge lot on my mind. With no concrete symptoms and no health benefits I will have to assume that I am fine, and be glad that some of the things it could be it is NOT. Thank god.
My boss has gone home. I'm going home too (after I run some work errands). I'm taking a nap. And tomorrow I'm sleeping as long as I please.
Ooh, what is this that I spy on my official degree audit?
Booyah! Graduation was August 15, 2005! View image
Why'd they tell Direct Loans it was May 6, 2005?
(I don't really say booyah. I don't even know what that is, but I think the funny guy Ron Stoppable on Kim Possible says it, and it seemed appropriate.)
Please read the extended entry for an important note.
See, I didn't cry, even if my voice sounded to me at times wavering. The man on the other end of the line was very patient even when my voice to me sounded a bit more desperate than usual. You see, I grabbed two pieces of mail that recently arrived in my hotel room, a product of the Big Mail Messup and slow forwarding, and brought them to work. They were from Direct Loans. I was quite surprised, when I opened them, that one wanted a payment Dec. 28, and one had wanted a payment Oct. 28! Holy crap! It is VERY important to me to repay my school loans perfectly; for one, I don't want bad credit.
Too late, it turns out. I immediately called the number and explained that I had only just received these notices, and the man explained my 75 day alleged deliquincy has already gone on my credit report. "Can't we do something about that?" I asked. "Can't it be taken off?" He said I could indeed dispute it, if I'm willing to get a copy of my credit report. Oh, that damn credit. How it has killed me time and time again.
I was chatting with Someone in New York at the time of the phone call, and I project how he will see the situation, how others, too, might see it. Didn't you know the debts were due? No, actually, I didn't graduate until August and I thought I had a six month deferment. Also, this was the first I'd heard from Direct Loans. How could you not know? How was I supposed to? You just should have. If you didn't know, you should've found out. Yes, I know. I know there are an infinite number of ways in which I should have been more perfect, and I don't disagree with you on that.
The loan guy said they probably will not remove the item from my credit because I should have updated my information with them. I find that ironically funny. I didn't know they were trying to contact me, never thought about them having old information. If they had contacted me, as they just now did, I would have promptly updated my information. And yet, having never been contacted by them, I didn't have *their* contact information! "How was I supposed to change my information?" I asked the guy. "You could've called," he answered. "Called what number?!" I asked.
And I know, I know Someone in New York will point out I should have known the number. Maybe it was on some old loan papers I signed at some point, packed away in the apartment I just moved, or quite likely, lost somewhere. He and the loan people will say that I must've had the number in my possession at some point, and even if I counter that this sudden departure to Kentucky to Florida, with the moves and changes of computers and items lost and packed away and all the time that has passed since I had to deal with the loans and all the craziness that has been this job and my life, I still STILL should've had the number somehow. Hell, I probably should have been calling Direct Loans every week just to say hi, awaiting the payments to begin in February. But I didn't, okay? I assumed they'd contact me when I owed them money. I assumed that'd be near February. And I shouldn't have assumed, should've been more proactive somehow, and now everything is all screwed up and my credit has a nasty black mark that may not be removed, and thus all my damn credit problems that have plagued me for so [expletive] long will just continue. All the jobs I couldn't get, the difficulty finding a place to live, the times I couldn't get service even with money in hand...
Makes one feel like they'll never improve, and that makes one want to cry. But I'm not, okay? (It doesn't help that I have some other pressing concerns on my mind.)
In searching my blog for credit stories, I've found stories like this one that make me realize that things aren't so bad as they used to be.
Why am I so non-pretty? I don't think I'm ugly; that'd be extreme. It's just that a set of New Year's photos just arrived online which I'd been eagerly awaiting--and I'm so disappointed. I had felt pretty, but in not a single photo am I actually pretty. An entire roll of photos, and all... icky. And I know that part of it is that I'm not at all photogenic, but then again, how many ugly photos of oneself can one look at in a lifetime and keep telling themselves they're not as ugly as they look?
Maybe if there had been some full body shots... maybe my thinness or my legs or something could have offset how lacking my hair and makeup were and how ugly my dark, deep-set eyes are and how flat-chested I am...
I am not asking for compliments. I do not want anyone to say that I really am pretty. ... I don't know what I want to hear. Maybe you should just tell me I'm right--I'm not that pretty and I ought to just get used to it. Maybe my personality makes up for it. That I shouldn't care about being ugly, because that's superficial. But I just can't accept it about myself that I am not pretty. I think it's the perfectionism thing of which I speak. Maybe I can't be in the 95th percentile or higher in every aspect of physical beauty, like I'd like. I can accept that, really. I could accept just "reasonably attractive", "reasonably pretty". Or maybe I am those things...but no. I'm so far below all the attractive and pretty girls. I think were it not for alcohol and male testosterone, I'd be nowhere. I've got nothing, save for the fact that I'm not obese.
Gah. Looking at those pictures has really made me feel badly. Why am I so non-pretty? How can I possibly look like I do in those pictures? Ick ick ick. I can't stand to look at myself.
I'm so happy, let me gush!
I just received an email of my kids' grades which I was not expecting. (THANK YOU, Nimmers!) Let me preface it by saying that I have to actually work at not extending my perfectionism to my children. In my schools, you had to have a 97% or higher to get an A, and this was always my goal, in every class, despite the fact I often took honors classes, always kept a full load, was always involved in a million time-consuming activities at once, and held jobs, too. I would only settle for an A- (94-96%) and could not accept ever having a grade lower than 94% in any subject for any reason. So it is with a bit of effort that I rejoice in the following grades:
Bri
Communication Arts: A (Writer's workshop: A+ both quarters>
Math: A- (Teacher's note: Good role model to others!)
Science: B- (down from an A+)
Social Studies: A
All other areas: 3s (on a scale of 1-3)
Shay
Communication Arts: A
Math: B+ (up from an inexplicble C+)
All other areas: 3s (five of which are up from former 2s), plus three 2s (one in turning in assignments)
As for the girls' reading as tested by the Scholastic Reading Inventory (SRI)...
Bri's grade level is 600-900. Bri scored a 1118, placing her in the 98th percentile nationally!
Shay's grade level is 500-800. Shay scored a 798, placing her in the 81st percentile!
No word on J, except that he has YET to have a star turned over in class, the first warning for an infraction that, from personal observation, can be for something as minor as getting out of your seat--an occurance that happens often to energetic little ones who, only being in kindergarten, have short attention spans coupled with inexperience. In other words, not a single time yet this year has J gotten in trouble or even had to be reminded of proper behavior, knock on wood. Yes, knock on wood!
I will not let myself think about how little I've had to do with their performance this year, as their education, their exploration of the world, is probably my favorite aspect of parenting. To think of what I am missing out on will only result in tears at the office and a feeling of depression that I cannot afford to allow. Money is evil. I miss my kids more than I can say.
I've been neglecting this poor blog so long you'll have no idea what I'm talking about, but... all my friends are gone!
My newest (and very much real) friend from New York is heading home tomorrow. Since he's been here I've had the opportunity to spend time with an ever-changing group of his friends and acquaintences, all Hispanic engineers of some sort. Walking into a situation where you know no one can be great fun; where I'm from, my lack of fear of such things is seen as adventurous and admirable, but apparently it's commonplace to folks from wealthier backgrounds. Still, tonight I went to dinner with fifteen people, only one of whom I knew, and then went to a club where I was the only white girl (and apparently the only girl who didn't know how to dance). I had my first salsa lesson and my first merengue dance. Lucky for me I had good partners! It has all been great fun and I never tire of meeting new people. I will miss all my new "friends".
I've realized I have a thing for guys wearing the following two types of shoes. That is, if I see a man wearing either sort of shoe, I have instant interest.
The former: Chucks, particularly red or black worn under jeans. I've had this interest for a few years. My newer interest?
The latter: Whatever these are. They're something like shown here, although this isn't quite it: flat, leather slip-on shoes that I usually spy on the feet of European(/stylish/handsome)-looking men. I don't know what these shoes are, but they usually look fashionable, well-to-do and sophisticated while being casual and confident. Interesting shoes.
Oh, I'm such a winner at work.
Nineteen times out of 20 when the phone rings here, it's some kind of telemarketer. It's gotten so bad I always end up swearing I'll no longer answer, but then the phone goes to ringing again, no one's answering, and I feel bad with the possibility that maybe, this time, it's a real call. Our number is brand new and not given out much, so that's unlikely, but you never know.
This time someone with a thick accent said she was calling from an Irish bank and needed to speak to my boss. Uh huh. This line is awfully similar to others I've heard. Whatever she was selling, I didn't figure my boss was interested in buying. I offered to take a message, despite her insistence on speaking to my boss directly, which seemed suspicious in itself. But as she got to the part where my boss allegedly sent her a letter--uh huh, right--she dropped a name which sounded awfully familiar. Uh oh. Here's where I realize the call is legitimate.
Thank god I did take that message or my boss would've missed an important international call. Oops.
This place cracks me up. That's right, we're under a cold weather advisory!
Be warned! It's only going to be *near* 60ยบ today!
(Note: I think the high for the day back home is lower than our morning temperature here.)
