Where the hell is that cleaning fairy???

My house is a wreck.  I mean, wow, it’s bad.  It looks like it’s been ransacked and I am not exaggerating.  Huge pile of dirty dishes.  HUGE HUGE pile of clean clothes that has multiplied and spread all over the living room (yall know how much I love doing laundry). Junk on the kitchen table.  Junk on the kitchen counters.  Junk on all the floors.  UGH!  I would DIE, like, fall over DEAD from embarrassment, if anyone popped in on me right now.  The problem is that I do not have any time.  Between school and work (that’s 7 days a week) and kids (the rest of my imaginary free time), I have no time to clean.  I don’t even cook anymore!  And if you know me, your mouth is hanging open in shock.  When I do have a free minute, I prefer to sleep.  My sleep bank account is majorly overdrawn.  The Sandman is hanging around me at all times waiting for my daily deposit of shut-eye.  And he overpowers me at the most inopportune times, like when I’m in class, to demand payment.  So, that being said… I overslept this morning.  I turned the alarm off in a half-sleeping stupor.  So I didn’t make it to clinical today.  My head is killing me but I’m going to clean house today.  I need some motivation, though. I mean, other than complete shame over the state of my living quarters.  My get-up-and-go got up and went a long time ago.  Ok, time to “get off this box”, as my mom says, and get started.  I’m taking Hurricane (who has been named The Princess because she loves pink, anything sparkly, and wearing dresses 24/7) to daycare then coming back and getting started.  Yes, I am.  If you are a friend of mine on Facebook and you haven’t heard from me in another day or two, send out the search party.  I might have been eaten by the mountain of laundry and the little munchkins that I imagine live in there lol.  Come on, you know they exist.  Why else would all of your socks (and undershirts) go missing in the wash?


It comes in threes…

First, a little over a week ago, I get hit by a piece of tire in my car.  Then, yesterday, the transmission went out in my van.  What’s next???  Or maybe the alternator going out a couple months ago was the first thing.  That would be nice.  That would mean I’ve had my three and “fate” can move on to someone else for a while.  Or then again… maybe it’s not the “threes” rule but just more of that damned Jones Luck striking again…  Ugh.  Come on Murph… leave me alone for a while, willya???

Tink You Veddy Mooch

Get ready… soap box time!!!

I had to call my auto finance company today.  After weaving my way though a long line of “press one” for this and “press two” for that, I finally got an actual human on the phone.  She said her name was Jennifer.  She sounded middle-eastern.  I told her that my insurance company had written the repairs check out to me and the finance company and I needed instructions for how to handle it.  She responded with “I will be happy to assist you with this issue” (like reading from a script), then she said “I’m sorry maam, can you repeat that more slowly?”  Ok, yall.  I’m SOUTHERN.  I already speak pretty slowly according to the rest of the country.  So I stated, again, a little slower, what I needed.  She said “I’m sorry maam, I do not understand.  Repeat again?”  At this point I feel my ears getting hot.  I said VERY slowly and VERY clearly, as if speaking to a three-year-old, what I needed.  This went on for TEN minutes!  At one point, I demanded that she find someone to speak to me who spoke ENGLISH as their first language.  She said “I speak English well, maam.”  Um… NO YOU DO NOT!  If you did, we wouldn’t be having this problem!  And I don’t believe for a minute that your name is “Jennifer!!!!”  It’s probably Habibah or something.  No, I didn’t say these things to her, I was just thinking them very loudly in my head.  Anyway, I FINALLY got her to understand me.  Then she tells me I have to endorse the check, mail it to them, and then fax the final repair bill.  THEN they will send a check directly to the repair shop.  After that, I can get my car back.  I don’t friggin THINK so!  I tried to explain to her that I cannot get my car repaired until I have the money.  I need my car back ASAP.  Not two weeks from now when they decide to process my check!  She was insistent and refused to listen to anything else I had to say.  I finally just got the fax and address from her and hung up.  I was on my cell phone, so that means I just pushed the “end” button.  Not nearly as satisfying as slamming down an old phone and making a loud clattering noise in their ear.  Why people?  WHY can’t we have ENGLISH speaking people in customer service positions at American companies?  Is it too much to ask?  A language barrier is extremely frustrating for both parties.  I can’t get my point across and the other person can’t understand me.  My southern drawl isn’t so bad that I’m hard to understand.  I cancelled my internet service with MSN about 10 years ago because of this same issue.  Anytime I called customer service or technical support, I got a foreigner (most likely a company contracted out of India) on the phone who didn’t understand a word I said and only gave responses that sounded like they came out of a book and had nothing to do with my complaint.  I’ve posted before about how customer service in this country has gone to shit.  This just further proves my point. There IS no customer service.  Just an idiot with a phone who barely speaks English.  And don’t get me started on people who move to this country and won’t learn our language…  I refuse to learn their language.  This is AMERICA and we speak English.  Learn OUR language or go home!!

Stepping down off my soap box before I go off on another tirade….

Watch out for those flying tires!

I was driving along Interstate 65 North this afternoon, minding my own business, when WHAM!  The windshield shattered.  I don’t remember exactly what my reaction was.  I pulled to the side of the road and jumped out of the car (why???).  I brushed the glass from my clothes, made sure Hurricane was ok, then dialed 911.  The operator asked me where I was.  I had no clue.  I was standing on the side of the interstate in tears.  He told me to drive down to the nearest exit (I had told him the car was drivable.)  Just after pulling back onto the interstate I see a camper pulled to the side of the road with a shredded tire.  I’m guessing that’s what hit me. I get to exit 280 and the 911 operator patches me through to the local police.  The dispatcher tells me how to get to the station.  I get there and the cop says, “Oh, that’s not our area, you need to go back to Kimberly.”  Then he says, “Your insurance probably won’t require a police report, I wouldn’t worry about it.”  So then I call my insurance company and file a claim.  The lady at the insurance claims office said she didn’t think I would need a report.  As I’m standing there, I notice black marks on the bumper (which is knocked out of whack) and on the hood (with a nice dent.)  The place where the tire hit the windshield is punched in.  I’m so thankful it didn’t come THROUGH the windshield.  It bounced off.  I decided since the car is drivable and the windshield isn’t blocking my view and is safe to drive, to continue on my journey.  About 10 minutes later I had to pull off to the side of the interstate again because I guess the shock wore off and I needed to cry.  Hurricane was asleep in the back seat.  I had checked and she didn’t get any glass at all on her.  I, however, am still picking glass shards out of my arms and from my bra.  As I’m sitting there hyperventilating and crying, I notice the very same camper pass me by.  In a very lady-like fashion, I flipped them the international sign of disgust.  They didn’t see it, of course, and it’s not like it was their fault, but it made me feel a tiny bit better.  What are the odds, really?  I mean, of all those cars travelling along at 70 mph on the interstate, the rogue tire hits ME!  That’s just my luck folks….

That damned “Jones Luck”

Anytime anyone in my family has bad luck, we call it “Jones Luck” (my mom’s family name)

Last week, Leila got ahold of my glasses. when I found them, one of the “arms” was broken off. Now, she’s a strong baby, but I don’t think she could have broken them that cleanly without some bending. I think it already had a weak spot. I just got the new lenses a few months ago, so I went to Wal-Mart to buy a new set of frames. No go. They can’t get them anymore. I looked online and found them for $100 (about $40 cheaper than Wal-Mart) Now lets just hope when they get here that my lenses will actually fit. The lenses are the expensive part of my glasses.

Then, last night I was on my way home with both kiddos in the car and I heard an awful noise. I stopped and got out. It was really dark so I kicked all four tires and none of them were flat. I shrugged and got back in. Started driving again, and the noise started back up. I pulled back over and got out again. It sounded like the rear passenger tire. I felt around the tire, and sure enough, there was something stuck in it. It was a piece of a bungee strap. The metal part was stuck in my tire. I yanked on it and wiggled it but it wouldn’t come out, I could just hear air hissing when I messed with it. I pulled the rubber piece off and left the metal in the tire and drove the mile or so home (very slowly with my flashers on.) It was too dark out there to attempt changing the tire (yes I can change a tire) and I didn’t have a flashlight. I’ll go out there in a bit and put the spare on and take the tire to WalMart and hope they can patch it. I can’t afford a new tire right now.

Ok, things happen in threes right? So what’s next?

Batteries Not Included

Have you ever wondered why so few items actually come with the batteries they require? Obvoious items, like cordless phones, MP3 players, and laptop computers come with their own nifty rechargables. But everything else says “batteries not included” right there on the package. You buy a nice new multi-tasking remote control. It can be used for five different electronics. Does it use AA batteries that you already have a huge stockpile of? NooOOOoooo. It needs AAA. That means you have to go back to the store, assuming you didn’t check the packaging when you bought it to see what type batteries it actually needs, and spend another ten dollars. If you’re lucky enough to buy an electronic device that comes with batteries, they are the el-cheap-o types that won’t last a week. Why can’t the manufacturers get together with the battery folks, like energizer or duracel, and just package the items together? Just jack up the price a few extra bucks to cover the cost of the batteries and be done with it. Or better yet, just put rechargables in everything! There’s an idea!   But I guess that would be too simple.

My least favorite chore

My fiance and I share most of the “chores” around the house.  With the exception of the litter box, that one’s all mine.  In return for that unpleasant task, I only ask that he take out the trash.  Which fueled a nasty little tiff the other day.  Anyhoo… I don’t mind doing dishes, doing the floors, scrubbing the bathroom, cooking, etc.  The one chore I absolutely HATE to do and will put off as long as possible:  folding and putting away laundry.  Seems silly doesn’t it?  I don’t know why, but I’ve always hated doing the laundry.  The easy part gets done, washing and drying.  Heck, the machines do all the work there.  And then I pile all the clean clothes up.  In baskets.  On the bed. On top of the dresser.  I just HATE folding it and putting it away.  Is it some deep-rooted, sub-conscience-type thing?  Maybe I need a shrink to tell me the “hidden meaning” behind it.  So how does the laundry make me feel?  Like running away lol.  I would rather do anything at all than put away the clean clothes.  I don’t get it.  Typing it out makes me sound even more nuts doesn’t it?  I would rather clean the whooooole house and cut the entire yard with a pair of scissors than put away the laundry!  I kid you not.  As much as this bothers Bob, bless his heart, he doesn’t nag me about it.  He just digs through the piles for something to wear (as do my daughter and I) and moves said piles when they are in the way.  I’ve tried tricking myself.  I’ll pile the clothes on the bed and think that I HAVE to put them away to go to bed, right?  Nope.  I move the pile.  Or in some desperate times, just shove the pile over on the bed enough to make a little space to sleep.  *shakes head at self*  I know…. its sad.

Ohhhh an afterthought (and reason for the edit):  Why not make disposable clothes?  No need to wash.  Ever.  These clothes would be like scrubs.  But you wear them once and toss them.  They could come in several different colors and patterns.  No need for expensive brand names again.  We could eliminate the plastic bottles of laundry detergent and softener clogging up our landfills.  No more dry-cleaning.  No more folding and putting away.  EVER!!  Hey, I can dream.

Previous Older Entries