Bugshit crazy
I’m so happy to report that the current apartment management is planning to exterminate my place on my official moving day. Blah blah blah “you will be fined $50 if you do not permit the exterminators to do their job.” I’ve tried this before — they bring in the bug boys to do a shitload of apartments in one day; no special considerations for anyone, circumstances be damned.
Seriously, they’ve had my notice for weeks — gee thanks. Ya couldn’t wait an extra, oh, DAY could’ja now? Seriously. Ya already inspected this dump today — hope you liked tripping on the vacuum cleaner cord and piles of newspapers, as I didn’t exactly clear a pathway for my guests.
‘Scuse me while I hang myself with that ethernet cord
Meanwhile back at the new ranch, I tried to schedule cable/Internet hookups at the new bachelorette pad. But I can’t because somebody, somewhere fucked something up and Crazy-Ass Cable Conglomerate have somebody else scheduled for an install at MY ADDRESS. Three phone calls later (and phone monkeys referring to me by a man’s name when I give them the address — the HELL?!?! As I asked one poor rep, “Do I SOUND like I just sprouted a third leg? You were calling me Dawn a minute ago, you know, when I gave you my cell phone number and my name popped up on your screen!”
Actually, I found it funny. I had no choice. 😉
Replace that zero with a hero … zero?
So anyway, the phone number. I started off with my area code. I said “Seven, Zero, Three. …” and the girl interrupts me to say, “You mean Seven, OH, Three?” I laughed and said yeah. Good on ya for translating that Zero into an Oh. Can’t put anything past YOU!!!!
The punchline
After I offered to fax my lease to prove that I am in fact the rightful tenant of said apartment unit and volunteered to submit to a medical exam to prove I was not the man whose name they called me by, I learned that I could not get the hookups and was thus regaled to living without cable and Internet until they could get hold of this mystery person who I am clearly NOT. Whee.
In any event, I suggested ever-so-helpfully that, since I had switched apartments at the last minute, perhaps the guy had done the same thing — only he’d gone so far as to schedule cable installation?
And the angels sang alleluia
I was put on hold and later told that — guess what? — the guy lives one floor above me. Hah. Somebody made a boo-boo when inputting the data. And apparently he has no idea, and if not for me, the boy would probably never get the cable.
The only reason I even threw the fit was because his install date that they’d mentioned in the first place (for the guy, which I didn’t realize at the time) was inconvenient to me, and I need mine way sooner. Heh — it would’ve been nice to have somebody else responsible for that triple-digit mess of a bill every month for practically nothing!
Let’s not talk about the mess over ordering checks.
Long story short, my bank has two addresses on file for me. I ordered checks using the mailing address I designated but with the new address to be printed on the checks I ordered from an independent company. Bank says the mailing address isn’t my address. Thus, no soup for you. So I updated my mailing address at the bank and now I see an e-mail that until my bank provides written verification (which is never going to happen) I am screwed and my money will be refunded in 45 days.
Because, you know, who really needs real, numbered checks? I hope I can pay my rent in navel fuzz, since they don’t accept starter checks.
More moving fun
I am terrified to call back my insurance agent to find out how much my already-astounding car/renter’s insurance is going to skyrocket with the move. Really — a girl can only handle so much in one day!
It’s all good, though. I’m moving forward. That’s all there is to it. I’m leaving behind a lot of posssessions, but that’s all they are — things. Stuff. Sentimental items. Tattered crap, basically.
I’m also leaving behind the tears, the frustration and sadness and fear and despair. It’s like getting a haircut and snipping off the split ends — they’ve incurred enough damage. Time to let them go into that gentle good night. It’s an opportunity to take with me what I want and not leave a forwarding address for what isn’t working for me.
I’ve wasted too much time being unhappy — and while I know I can’t abolish bad feelings, I can change the scenery and not be reminded of the old stuff that weighed me down. Four walls can only hold so many tears — these have hit their capacity. My new place is untainted, untouched. It’s full of sunshine and space and possibility. And, thus, so am I. And I feel healthier already, just thinking about the laughter and joy I’m going to experience anywhere but here. …