my universe today
you know, i was having a really good day. right up until i left the house. it's been all downhill from there.
to clarify: everything crashed when i left the house for work. when i left the house to deliver my mom's laundry to her house, everything was still fine.
to further clarify: i don't actually do my mom's laundry. she washes it herself and i sometimes dry and fold. it's always 'out of her way' to actually bring the clothes to my house and/or pick them up though (never mind that i live 10 minutes from her house), hence the door-to-door service. (she called @ 5:34am to ask when i'd be bringing the clothes over because she needed to leave at 6:00am. good luck. i didn't get over there until 6:30.)
but i got to bed early last night, so interruption of sleep was not enough to make this a shitty day. and, actually, the day was looking up since the inexplicable pain that inhabited my right side and shoulder, the pain that was aggravated by movements such as breathing and standing, had abated (not completely, but enough). to be woken up in the morning was good, as it was evidence that i had not died in my sleep.
....
today is my dad's birthday. today is also the day my dad is leaving town to spend the rest of the week in OKLAHOMA (turns out he's got an old school chum living there, else i would seriously be questioning his sanity). family tradition of taking the birthday person to dinner thus impossible, i asked if he wanted breakfast instead.
i wasn't sure, though, if i wanted to take him to a restaurant or actually cook. i was leaning toward restaurant, but then, last night, i decided to have a nibble of some very aged cheddar that lives in my fridge. immediately, i thought of omelettes. then i thought 'too common' and my mind jumped immediately to frittata (those italian omeletes are so much more exotic than the american ones).
and so it was. this morning my parents came over and we ate frittata and sauteed mushrooms and french bread and banana bread and blood oranges and all was okay with the universe.
....
at this point, it might be good to mention the bad things that've happened in the universe: this morning, i kept forgetting that the skillet that i used to cook the frittata, the one that i'd just taken out of the oven, was hot. and kept trying to touch the handle with my bare hand. you'd think once would've been enough to learn me. but no, i kept trying, at various times, to pick up this very hot skillet with my bare hand until i got what i think must be a 1st-degree burn. and then i tried once more after that. obviously, i did not learn that 'hot hurts' during my formative years.
last night, i broke a plate. fortunately, it was not a plate i liked. unfortunately, it was a plate and i broke it.
then, this doesn't really rank as a complaint but, david called. and wanted to complain about some trivial shit. and i was like 'if it ain't serious, i don't have the time.' and he was like 'why not?' and i didn't say anything because it should've been so obvious: 'MY trivial shit is more important than yours! Did you not just hear that plate shattering in the background?'
and, let us not forget the inexplicable pain. the pain that had me once again cursing the weak-ass St. John's Aspirin i bought on sale. (i'm not a regular OTC drug user. but apparently my body likes the strong stuff because i am a total slave to the extra-strength acetominophen that my office stocks.)
also this morning, my measuring spoons got stuck in the garbage disposal. they are now all bent out of shape. but at least i've learned that my hand will fit down the sink drain. and that garbage disposals do not spontaneously start up the minute fingers are inserted into them.
....
even with all of that, my day was not bad. my roommate was not pissed that i keep making noise at ungodly hours. she actually washed the first sinkful of dishes, voluntarily! (of course, she might not have had we not invited her to eat with us.)
i called c* as i was on my way to work, to inform him of the success of my first breakfast gathering. he said that he was about to call the American Cancer Society and see if they'd be willing to accept his car as a donation. that way, the next time he comes to visit, he won't have to worry about getting back up to oakland just to help his brother push the car to the opposite side of the street (because of street-cleaning). he can leave for much better reasons like wanting to get drunk and high with his friends. (and i support him on that. when we met, he was abstaining from both smoke and drink and i was like 'whoa. that's okay for now, but eventually it might be a problem.' still, he claims it isn't my fault that he fell off the teetotaler wagon.)
while we're on the phone, dad calls and says 'you know that errand i wanted you to run? don't worry about it, i just did it myself.' Cool!
then, first thing when i get to work, BAM!, c* calls me back. they won't take the car cause it doesn't run. fair enough, i say, try some other places and i'm sure you'll find one that doesn't care.
so i go on with my day. start up my computers, check my email, and BAM! one author liked her color proofs. Cool. 3 authors had complaints. Bummer.
but that's it for work complaints. and if that's all i have to complain about, not a bad day.
then we get to the personal shit. that's the shit that really breaks your heart. the shit that gets down into the very cracks of you and chips away with a little hammer and chisel.
time to think about: mortgage payments. mine and my parents. all i had to do was write the checks. why the hell was it so painful?
and then, the A #1 thing that totally fucked up my day: Theatreworks. (i'm not even sure i have the energy to write about it now.) those people, with their rules, and their regulations, and their Subscriber Handbook that i was apparently supposed to commit to memory before daring to subscribe to their season.
yes, i understand that it's my fault that i forgot what day my ticket was for and so missed the play. yes, i understand that you have a fucked-up policy of not exchanging tickets once the play date has passed. what i don't understand is why your customer service person seems to think i should be okay with this policy. should i be all happy-smiley and tra-la that my money has just gone down the drain? ooh, but if i want to see the play so badly, i can get a $3 discount off a regularly-priced ticket? well, praise be and hallelujah! that makes everything all better.
fuckers. just see if i renew my subscription for the 2003-2004 season. just see what happens if one of your representatives calls my house.
i was so unhappy with my telephone customer service experience, that i actually wrote an email to Theatreworks. i didn't ask for my money back, i didn't rant, i didn't rave, i just wanted to deal with a freaking human being and maybe make a suggestion on how they could have avoided making me quite so unhappy. and what i discovered is that Box Office Workers and their Managers are only half as human as everyone else on the planet. apparently, the parts of their brains that are in charge of doling out sympathy (which is part of the customer service job description, you ask me) DO NOT WORK RIGHT. that is all.
oh, you get 30 calls a day? not my problem. i don't know those other 29 people. oh, you have 10,000 subscribers? aren't i one of them?
all you had to do was write 'thanks for your feedback. we'll look into it.' did it seem like i was looking for an explanation of all the reasons why it's perfectly justified for you to be an asshole? yes, i'm aware that i'm irrational. you're lucky i'm clinging to the positive.
to clarify: everything crashed when i left the house for work. when i left the house to deliver my mom's laundry to her house, everything was still fine.
to further clarify: i don't actually do my mom's laundry. she washes it herself and i sometimes dry and fold. it's always 'out of her way' to actually bring the clothes to my house and/or pick them up though (never mind that i live 10 minutes from her house), hence the door-to-door service. (she called @ 5:34am to ask when i'd be bringing the clothes over because she needed to leave at 6:00am. good luck. i didn't get over there until 6:30.)
but i got to bed early last night, so interruption of sleep was not enough to make this a shitty day. and, actually, the day was looking up since the inexplicable pain that inhabited my right side and shoulder, the pain that was aggravated by movements such as breathing and standing, had abated (not completely, but enough). to be woken up in the morning was good, as it was evidence that i had not died in my sleep.
....
today is my dad's birthday. today is also the day my dad is leaving town to spend the rest of the week in OKLAHOMA (turns out he's got an old school chum living there, else i would seriously be questioning his sanity). family tradition of taking the birthday person to dinner thus impossible, i asked if he wanted breakfast instead.
i wasn't sure, though, if i wanted to take him to a restaurant or actually cook. i was leaning toward restaurant, but then, last night, i decided to have a nibble of some very aged cheddar that lives in my fridge. immediately, i thought of omelettes. then i thought 'too common' and my mind jumped immediately to frittata (those italian omeletes are so much more exotic than the american ones).
and so it was. this morning my parents came over and we ate frittata and sauteed mushrooms and french bread and banana bread and blood oranges and all was okay with the universe.
....
at this point, it might be good to mention the bad things that've happened in the universe: this morning, i kept forgetting that the skillet that i used to cook the frittata, the one that i'd just taken out of the oven, was hot. and kept trying to touch the handle with my bare hand. you'd think once would've been enough to learn me. but no, i kept trying, at various times, to pick up this very hot skillet with my bare hand until i got what i think must be a 1st-degree burn. and then i tried once more after that. obviously, i did not learn that 'hot hurts' during my formative years.
last night, i broke a plate. fortunately, it was not a plate i liked. unfortunately, it was a plate and i broke it.
then, this doesn't really rank as a complaint but, david called. and wanted to complain about some trivial shit. and i was like 'if it ain't serious, i don't have the time.' and he was like 'why not?' and i didn't say anything because it should've been so obvious: 'MY trivial shit is more important than yours! Did you not just hear that plate shattering in the background?'
and, let us not forget the inexplicable pain. the pain that had me once again cursing the weak-ass St. John's Aspirin i bought on sale. (i'm not a regular OTC drug user. but apparently my body likes the strong stuff because i am a total slave to the extra-strength acetominophen that my office stocks.)
also this morning, my measuring spoons got stuck in the garbage disposal. they are now all bent out of shape. but at least i've learned that my hand will fit down the sink drain. and that garbage disposals do not spontaneously start up the minute fingers are inserted into them.
....
even with all of that, my day was not bad. my roommate was not pissed that i keep making noise at ungodly hours. she actually washed the first sinkful of dishes, voluntarily! (of course, she might not have had we not invited her to eat with us.)
i called c* as i was on my way to work, to inform him of the success of my first breakfast gathering. he said that he was about to call the American Cancer Society and see if they'd be willing to accept his car as a donation. that way, the next time he comes to visit, he won't have to worry about getting back up to oakland just to help his brother push the car to the opposite side of the street (because of street-cleaning). he can leave for much better reasons like wanting to get drunk and high with his friends. (and i support him on that. when we met, he was abstaining from both smoke and drink and i was like 'whoa. that's okay for now, but eventually it might be a problem.' still, he claims it isn't my fault that he fell off the teetotaler wagon.)
while we're on the phone, dad calls and says 'you know that errand i wanted you to run? don't worry about it, i just did it myself.' Cool!
then, first thing when i get to work, BAM!, c* calls me back. they won't take the car cause it doesn't run. fair enough, i say, try some other places and i'm sure you'll find one that doesn't care.
so i go on with my day. start up my computers, check my email, and BAM! one author liked her color proofs. Cool. 3 authors had complaints. Bummer.
but that's it for work complaints. and if that's all i have to complain about, not a bad day.
then we get to the personal shit. that's the shit that really breaks your heart. the shit that gets down into the very cracks of you and chips away with a little hammer and chisel.
time to think about: mortgage payments. mine and my parents. all i had to do was write the checks. why the hell was it so painful?
and then, the A #1 thing that totally fucked up my day: Theatreworks. (i'm not even sure i have the energy to write about it now.) those people, with their rules, and their regulations, and their Subscriber Handbook that i was apparently supposed to commit to memory before daring to subscribe to their season.
yes, i understand that it's my fault that i forgot what day my ticket was for and so missed the play. yes, i understand that you have a fucked-up policy of not exchanging tickets once the play date has passed. what i don't understand is why your customer service person seems to think i should be okay with this policy. should i be all happy-smiley and tra-la that my money has just gone down the drain? ooh, but if i want to see the play so badly, i can get a $3 discount off a regularly-priced ticket? well, praise be and hallelujah! that makes everything all better.
fuckers. just see if i renew my subscription for the 2003-2004 season. just see what happens if one of your representatives calls my house.
i was so unhappy with my telephone customer service experience, that i actually wrote an email to Theatreworks. i didn't ask for my money back, i didn't rant, i didn't rave, i just wanted to deal with a freaking human being and maybe make a suggestion on how they could have avoided making me quite so unhappy. and what i discovered is that Box Office Workers and their Managers are only half as human as everyone else on the planet. apparently, the parts of their brains that are in charge of doling out sympathy (which is part of the customer service job description, you ask me) DO NOT WORK RIGHT. that is all.
oh, you get 30 calls a day? not my problem. i don't know those other 29 people. oh, you have 10,000 subscribers? aren't i one of them?
all you had to do was write 'thanks for your feedback. we'll look into it.' did it seem like i was looking for an explanation of all the reasons why it's perfectly justified for you to be an asshole? yes, i'm aware that i'm irrational. you're lucky i'm clinging to the positive.