Where's My Cape?

The month of natural disasters

Just a couple of weeks ago, I woke up to an earthquake shaking the house, and then yesterday afternoon, blew in a storm of short but powerful proportions. It was like a 60 second buildup. Sunny one minute, then ominous the next, with winds that rushed in OUT OF FREAKING NOWHERE.

I stood at the back French doors watching branches fly out from the overhead trees and spit down onto the backyard. Branches just snapping off and sent flying. I looked at our deck umbrella which was still deployed and thought I only had a few moments to close it (and thereby save it from being snapped off and tossed into the ether like a drink umbrella) so did the stupid and ran out there to secure it. Stu-pid. I realized, after I ducked safely back into the house, that I could have been maimed  or worse by the falling debris, especially after seeing a freaking tree limb come down into the earth like a dagger. Within seconds, the rain started - this horizontal crazy rain. I could not keep from staring at those swaying huge trees, basically marionettes for this storm. Please, I thought to myself, do not impale my house.

After 5 minutes, it was all over, the rain stopped, the winds died down. It was over like that. There were branches everywhere. Oh, and we lost power.

Now, some people find it fun or at least a simpler change of pace to lose power temporarily and enjoy Little House on the Prairie living. That is not me. Do you know what I enjoy? A/C for one. Also light. The internet. Cold things in the fridge. Being able to see my teeth when I brush them. There are many more.

Oh, yes, I carried around a big lantern/candle thing but I did not like it. Not one bit. I also did not like trying to sleep in the 90 degree house, with the windows open, and having to hear neighbors behind  the house (who apparently did NOT lose their power), blare bad top-40s music in our communal air space and hear an injured  last-call version of Chris Isaak's Wicked Games Karaoke. Spare me! I'm uncomfortable enough! No more beer bottle clanging!

In the morning, I awoke to find no restoration of power and treated myself to a nice, cold shower. Ah, refreshing! I discovered that about 300,000 people in the area are without power and that it could be a "multi-day restoration." Fabulous! Driving to work was a treat since so many traffic lights were out--this always reminds me of War of the Worlds and mass chaos. The intersections were just every man for himself - actually kind of like driving in China.

I discovered that, in the late afternoon, power to the house was restored! Hooray! That meant that the local grocery store would now be open - we could actually procure food. I was hoping to pick up some prepared foods for dinner, some eggs, milk, juice, you know, the standards.

*not pictured: absence of any meat. None. People were trying to buy canned soup. In July. THAT'S HOW BAD IT WAS.

(The last time I saw the grocery store look like this was during the great 2010 blizzard --akin to 1970's Soviet Union. While today's version did have much more bread available, at least the blizzard had some deli meats and rotisserie chickens.)

But we have power!!

What's next? A Potomac Tsunami?
 
 

Coming home to wetness

Let me start by saying that I don't like the word 'wetness.' Unfortunately, many words in this genre also are displeasing to me, such as 'moisture' and 'dankness,' so imagine my utter displeasure to discover wetness of our basement Berber carpet upon returning home from vacation.

Correction: Actually, the first thing I noticed was the smell. Let's just say I thought we had a Litter Box Situation.

After going all mental on the litter box - dumping everything out and throwing the empty box out onto the back patio to fumigate - I realized the smell was still present. A deeply disturbing smell that made me suddenly very regretful to own a pet. (Okay, I'm often regretful of having the household beast, but now I was REALLY regretful.)

Then, I walked across the wetness. The soaking wetness. CRAP.

There's nothing like wet carpet to sink your post-vacation spirits to a new low.

No. God, no.

(One of my favorite quotes is: There is no man who needs vacation like the man who just got back from vacation. So. True.)

My fear, of course, was that this was no ordinary liquid, this was sewage liquid, or some kind of variant of sewage liquid. I mean, there was no macro-level evidence of anything, but the smell! I summoned The Husband and we walked the carpet to map out the margins of badness. In the process, we found that both kids' Pottery Barn chairs with their lovely names embroidered on them: ruined, with brown water stains creeping up their seats and mold (!) spots on the bottom. But no clear source of an ongoing leak. CRAP.

We got online and started researching next steps. I got on the phone to our insurance company while The Husband kept finding online literature propaganda that scared the bejeesus out of us - more mold info, the emergent nature, the time line of permanent MICROBIAL CATASTROPHE DON'TWAITANOTHERMINUTEOHMYGODGETSOMEONESTAT.

It was Sunday night. Of course it was.

We had a plumber come emergently: we had a slow leak from a bleed valve of a pipe. Fixed. But now we had the water damage and containment issue which apparently is a major business. We'd have the water damage specialist company come out tomorrow morning, first thing, assess the damage, and tell us a) if they could salvage the carpet -possibly not if they pulled it up and there was visible mold; b) what their estimate would be if they could do it. In the meantime, the helpful foreman suggested, we needed to pull up the carpets and remove the padding which had to go.

"Are you handy?" he asked me. Um, that would be a NO. "It's easy," he assured me.

The two of us had to move all the furniture (that statement no where near describes the level of pain this entailed) and toys (this statement no where near captures the amount of pieces-of-crap-no-one-plays-with-for-the-love-of-God-toys) from the affected area of the room and pull back the carpet from the corner. Like he assured me, that part was easy. Underneath, the padding --usually as light as foam--was SOAKED. It was like 50 lbs! The Husband dragged each piece over his shoulder, grunting, as if carrying a 200lb water buffalo, and threw it out onto our curb. Yes, we are that classy. The padding leaked liquid the whole way. Dripping!

We finally had all the affected areas exposed and the padding removed and stuck a sad room fan on high until the professionals came.

The good news was, the company thought they could salvage the carpet (otherwise, that would mean replacing the WHOLE room which is a MEGA LARGE ROOM OF MEGA $QUARE FOOTAGE) with industrial strength blowers, a  commercial dehumidifier and whatever else they do...really, they could have said anything at any price, because, really, what are we going to do? I have no idea about what these things cost. So, I basically imagined I sounded like Goofy saying, "Sure! $1000? Go right ahead and tell Mickey, Minnie and Donald I said Howdy!"

For 2-3 days, we had what sounded like a jet engine landing in our basement from all of these mega fans blowing. Seriously, it was insane.But, each day, the smell lessened, then disappeared (or we all became just immune to the new baseline stench), and the carpet dried. This was not without complications. On Day 2, I attempted to take a nice warm shower only to find no nice warm water. The water heater was shorting from all of those stupid fans!

We still have to get the carpet cleaned, then re-installed so needless to say, our basement is looking mighty broke. But, this whole ordeal has showed me one clear thing: We need a yard sale like nobody's business (All you toys? Your days are numbered).

p.s. Our insurance covers the damage! Just don't ask me what our deductible is because I'll get angry again and punch something. Let's just say the insurance company better not be late in coughing up that $62.

Do your job and nobody gets hurt

Our tenants moved out a couple of weeks ago, and I had to coordinate getting the house ready for our new tenants who moved in this weekend. The plan was to have the house cleaned and then have some minor repairs and touch-up painting done.

I got the contacts for a cleaning service and a handyman from our realtor who also has rental properties.

The cleaning service had no easy task. Our former tenants, bless their hearts, were wonderful tenants *in general* but thorough cleaning and neatness were never a strong suit. The master bathroom shower? NASTITUDE. That thing had more mold spores than a 5-ton block of blue cheese. Honestly? I would not take a shower in there without a pair of hip waders on. It also smelled of mildew funk, causing one strange pair of Russian mafia Craiglister-viewers to ask whether we had a problem with mold. Great.

But, I figured a professional cleaning service surely could handle it.

When I checked the house the night after it was "cleaned," THE SHOWER FLOOR WAS STILL GREY. I mean, it looked marginally better, but not to basic public health standards. I called the cleaning dispatcher who said he'd meet the crew out there the next day to see if it needed to be re-done. He called me later to say that yes- they did not complete the job correctly and would work on it that day.

Checked that night: shower floor now white. Surrounding tile grout still Mildew Madness. Grrrr.

Called dispatcher again. Can you please work on the grout? Looks disgusto-nast. Why do I have to keep calling? What's up with not doing things right the first time?

Then, the handyman.

Dude was supposed to fill in large nail holes and re-paint. When I looked at his work the next day, there were still crater holes in the walls, they were just now painted over. Um, no. It looked horrible. I had to get him back in the next day to re-do (i.e. do the job he was originally supposed to do). Grrrr. And he was totally overpriced. When I finally told him I was satisfied with his job (because now the holes were actually filled), the guy sends me an email saying he's glad I was satisfied and he hopes I'll think of him in the future for any of my handyman needs. Right. I'll be right back on the phone with you. Already put you on speed dial. Not.

What is up with people not doing their jobs?

Where is my dislike button for life?

Status updates

Apparently in the long time that has elapsed since the last time I wrote a post, typepad's dashboard changed, throwing me completely off when I logged in. Has it been that long? Geez. I'm not good with change. (This is evidenced by the length of time that elapsed between me being scared of Twitter and me embracing Twitter  - hi @capeKC.) I figure the least I can do is test out the technology and give it a whirl. Now anyone who cares can know when I try to unlock my office door by double-clicking my remote car unlock button. Hope this evidence of my mental state will never be used against me in court.

The good news is that in the long time that has elapsed since I last posted, my face has cleared up considerably and I no longer look like a teenager in extremis. Things were looking dark there for awhile. I stepped up the skin regimen and really focused on meeting my minimal sleep requirements and not gorging on Halloween candy all night. (Girl looked into our candy bowl the other day and exclaimed, "Whoa! Look how much candy we ate!" If only she knew.)  I thought my acne days were over but apparently I was able to find just the right combo of irritants to resurrect my worst sebum fears. It takes talent.

The bad news is that I submitted an essay and had it rejected in the time it takes to have clothes drycleaned. Sure, I knew it was a bit of a long shot, but, dude, that's harsh. (So, yes, that means I'm in one of my post-rejection funks where I doubt the presence of any good or humor in my pitiful soul. It was a funny essay. Supposed to be funny. Thought not to be funny. At all. Ahem.)

The other bad news is that I've dealt with all kinds of crap the past couple of days. Serious people crap.  People that have no insight at all  on how they are dealing me crap. I'm tired of dealing with people without any insight. It's tiresome and stressful and unproductive. I'm dealing with one particular person who has no idea how much like Satan he/she is --this bothers me immensely. I finally had to say something, using gentler terms, and he/she still didn't get it. The man/woman probably drives away almost all people because of his/her interactions with others and can't see that how his/her behavior is completely unprofessional. Now he/she is mad at me for saying anything - as if I'm just trying to ruin his/her day - when actually I'm trying to improve his/her LIFE. Can't deal with the drama.

The other bad news is that the grocery store checkout clerk today forgot to put my eggs and bread in my cart and I went HOME WITHOUT THEM. Only was I HOME did I realize I had no eggs or bread. This after my multiple toxic inputs lately made me VERY PEEVISH. We're talking super-no-fun-to-be-around PEEVISH. Because I called the store and they were like, yes, I can see your eggs and bread right now. Like that was supposed to make me feel better, that they could see them there, without a cart to call home.

Before I get too insane ranty on everyone, I must say at least there is Thanksgiving to look forward to. I love hosting a nice big dinner with lots of people to feed, strangers and family alike. Cranberry-cherry sauce is made and tomorrow is peasant bread for the stuffing and brining the turkey. Getting excited to be hostess, to see my brother and my sister-in-law, my parents, my in-laws, some randoms, festive!

So maybe this is a good time to take a deep breath and be thankful of all that's good I have going on and less stressed about the other stuff. It's time to slow down. I *am* thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving xo

Disturbia

Random disturbing things that crop up when you are NOT regularly blogging or reading blogs in a week:

• I'm fairly confident that our nanny thinks "sexy" means "beautiful." To Girl wearing a new pretty skirt: Wow! SEXY!  The Husband and I just laughed and then bit our fingernails. I call "Not It" on explaining that one.
• Yesterday, I had, at one point, a constant attack of mosquitoes on my person. I'm talking huge, killer mosquitoes who were trying to infect me with West Nile Virus. I swatted off and killed at least 10, but they kept landing on me, and I was trying to book it out of the woods (long story) pulling Boy with one hand and holding an enormous goblet of white wine in the other (long story). Still, I was eaten alive. I am a mosquito beacon. But, if that means I diverted those insect vultures from my sweet Boy, then it was entirely worth it. Please pass the 1% hydrocortisone ointment.
• I am very confused about the weather. I go into work wearing a jacket and come out, at the end of the day, sweating and highly regretting my autumnal outfit.
• My office is like The North Pole. It is so cold in there, whenever anyone steps in, they gasp. I've been told there's a problem that can't be fixed (?!?), so instead, I sit, wrapped up in a blanket and allow the frosty air coming constantly out of the vent in the ceiling to blow down on me until my hands hurt from cold.
• I am so behind in Things to Do, it is mind-boggling. Seriously, this past week kicked my butt. If you sent me an email in the last week, consider it gone forever. Poof. No more. I have no idea what you may have said.
• So much for thinking that it would be a long time before I became an embarrassment to my children. I had the IPod cranked up playing Pink's "Don't Leave Me" and trying to show Boy some of my smooth dance moves when Girl frowns and shields her eyes, "Don't Dance, Mommy. I don't like it when you dance! Stop dancing, Mommy! Stop dancing!!!!"
• I  have acquired a mean URI from the kiddies (thank you, Darlings, this is my repayment for giving birth to you and suffering irreparable damage to my superficial layers of skin) and am a sniffling mess. Haven't been hit with a URI this hard in a long time.
• Cancer sucks. Sometimes work is a huge downer. It is emotionally draining. I can understand where burnout comes from. 
• Girl has decided she wants to grow out her bangs. That means Cousin It is coming over and staying with us for awhile.

On the flip side, there have been some nice things.

• Had sushi this weekend. And it was good.
• Had actual husband-wife time at above sushi dinner. Awesome.
• Went over friends' for dinner yesterday --the wife is a fabulous cook, has a cooking column, and we had a fabulous time, not to mention an awesome dinner. Of course, we can never, ever have them over ever again for any meal. Never. Ever.
• Boy can now jump with TWO FEET OFF THE GROUND AT THE SAME TIME. It is abso-freaking-lutely-adorable.

That's me in the Hyundai Accent

There should be a rule that if someone hits your car AND it is entirely their fault AND they are paying for your repairs AND covering your rental car, that insurance company needs to spring for a rental car that is AT LEAST in the same "class" as your original car. Don't put someone who drives a freaking minivan into a Hyundai Accent. Minivan::Hyundai Accent is as Titanic::dinghy canoe with one oar.  It's bad enough that that someone was hit and has to go through the inconvience of getting the car repaired.

For two days, I was driving a red Hyundai Accent that had manual everything-besides-transmission. We're talking windows that roll down. Call me a prima donna but I haven't rolled down car windows in a decade. I also have not had the pleasure of manual door locks in...I don't even know when. Of course, they give you the car with all four doors unlocked. You should have seen me trying to figure out how to lock all the doors that first time. Wait. OMGWTF.

Putting Girl in the backseat meant unlocking the passenger seat. Then reaching INSIDE to unlock the door. That's way too many steps. And the side mirrors. Don't even get me started about adjusting the side mirror with a manual joystick. It had one cup holder that was less cup holder than small divot.

Way to spring for a car, Negligent Driver's Insurance Company. 

Anyway, no offense to anyone who has one of these. I was just bitter for having to go to so much hassle - dropping car off at shop, going to rental car company...(having a MAJOR MORTIFICATION EVENT at said rental car company, not now)....during times I'm supposed to, you know, work...and getting this car.

Of course, Girl LOVED the car. When I picked her up from school, she exclaimed, "IT'S FABULOUS! I LOVE THIS CAR!"

Maybe because it was small? And red? Or clean?

(Also, maybe I use the word 'fabulous' more than I realize.)

The Enterprise (we'll give you a ride) guy who drove me back to the shop asked me how I liked the car.

"What? This car???"

It seemed like an odd question.

Does it look like I like this car?

Then he told me something that I wish I had known before this whole fiasco. If I had complained to the insurance company about the size of the car--like hey, I've got 3 car seats to fit in there--they would have probably sprung for something larger than a go-kart.  Word to your mutha.

It's all fun and games until someone loses a hard drive

It started out so innocently. A frozen screen. Then, the dreaded blue screen describing things involving dumps and crashes. Then an automatic restart...which failed to start...then a defiant blank screen of inertness.

After holding for eons and then finding out I had to be transferred to ANOTHER department reserved for fools buying my line of craptuter....and then holding more....then talking to "Neil" not of this continent for 2 hours (no joke. Marathon troubleshooting.)...then discovering hard drive busted and  that we were unable to recover my data through these basic methods but FOR SURE the Geek Squad at my local Best Buy could NO PROBLEM said Neil.

I'm under warranty which means they will replace their craptastic hard drive in the comforts of my home in 24-48 hours, but I need to extract the files off my computer on my own since it's not their fault OF COURSE since hard drives need only last the lifespan of a field mouse. (note: my motherboard had to be replaced a few months ago in the comforts of my home super.)

Went to The Squad and talked to An Agent who intimated that I might be "SOL." (Since when is saying 'SOL' acceptable in the client/service agent contract???) Agent was not of legal drinking age. Agent reported that data was unrecoverable unless we took drastic measures and sending out to secret computer Geek Lab where they extract data particle by particle. Charges for such detailed work could be over a thousand G's baby.  Agent said 'Sorry' with as much compassion he could muster, noting his aunt had gone through something similar recently. Agent compared me to his aunt. Agent also said that a customer who just sent his hard drive in for detailed work had a 500 page Word document that he had been working on for 6 years. 6 years of work on one document and no back-ups? Can only imagine this is CRAZY LUNATIC MANIFESTO.

Traveled to another computer outfit across town that I heard was BETTER and CHEAPER than Geek Squad Formation. BETTER and CHEAPER place had a KNOWLEDGE BAR where one could cozy up on a bar stool and wait for COMPUTER EXPERTS to assist. Put name on wait list. Estimated time of wait: One hour, 40 minutes. Browsed MacBooks out of spite. Finally, expert called name and checked out my hard drive. Surprise: Data not recoverable and needs jaws of life and up to $1600 to extract.

Getting. Peeved.

Thought about recent computer activity since last major back-up (scared into back-up submission by threat of computer failure but only needed new motherboard, see above). Stories I had written. A submitted manuscript and all related revisions, related references. And photos. So many photos. Chunks of family history, including recent mega-photo-expenditure at beach with extended family including 97 AND 94 YEAR OLD GREAT GRANDPARENTS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

Not good.

Back to Geek Squad. Sending in hard drive. An estimate, at least.

Vowing to back-up ONCE A WEEK FOREVER MARK MY WORDS. be ye not so stupid.