choco_frosh: Konstanz, imaginary depiction in a map of the Swabian War, 1500 (Costenitz)
Various work-related $#!7:

Fustest: So my boss, after I'd told him I was leaving at some point in the near future, asked me to write out a letter of resignation, because the higher-ups had been asking for one; and so I did, but didn't specify an end date.
Allegedly, since that was the case, they are simply going to PICK my end date, based on when we get my replacement adequately trained. So I could be out of a job as early as next Friday.

The fact that I find it plausible either that my supervisor is screwing me over OR that the upper management of MRE are being a bunch of callous, shooting-themselves-in-the-foot cheese-parers is one more reason why I need to get out of this job.

As D. at bellringing last night put it: "I mean, it's good that you're finally getting out of there! But money is good too."
(Everyone at practice expressed congratulations that I was finally leaving this job. I guess I may have been bitching about it a bit. I guess they thought the bitching was deserved.)

But yeah. Unemployed in the near future. And...


2. I thought I was being hired by the Census. They're not replying to my emails, though.


3. On the other hand, it's a three-day weekend. Or, well, 3+ days, since [University]'s closing at 2 tomorrow.* And nothing planned on Saturday, 'cause practice got cancelled due to practically every ringer in the area road-tripping to Quebec. Anybody want to do a thing?

(Friday afternoon is going to be catch up on chores and make a strawberry-rhubarb crumble, unless somebody talks me into doing something more exciting. Sunday, of course, is choir followed by more choir followed by ringing followed by more ringing followed by Fall Over. Followed by contradancing. Monday, who knows?


More Later.

PS: Everyone remind me that I need to check twiddle pins!

* 3a. Supervisor, in one of his many questionable moves, is actually giving several people the ENTIRE day off; I volunteered to be the one to come in so as to have some leverage for taking half a day off NEXT week, to meet a friend of [personal profile] sovay's at his (ridiculously well-funded research-based) place of employment, in the hopes that having some of the people there actually know my face will increase my odds of getting hired there at some point...
choco_frosh: (Default)
(Some of you already know about this, and I think I've alluded to my recent health issues on here but...well, $#!7's happened, and I figured I'd better explain it, or my next post or two isn't going to make any sense at all to most of you.)

Back in...yeesh, December, I suppose...I had a recurrence of my old knee problems. Soreness, swelling, vague feelings of unsteadiness, pain when I tried to run on it. I'd had this back in August, but on that occasion it was partly because my shoes were ridonculously worn out, and this didn't appear to be the case this time around. So I hoped it would get better.
It didn't.
Eventually, sovay--and everyone else I'd talked to about this--browbeat me into seeing a doctor. Trouble was, I'd called my GP, and they'd told me to go to the physical therapist I'd seen last time.
I'd never told them I'd never gotten around to calling the therapist the last time. (Look, it was hell week at work, and I have little enough free time even under normal circumstances.)

I eventually called the physical therapist they'd referred me to anyway. And I got an appointment and went in, and they poked and prodded and massaged and made me do a whole bunch of weird exercises (both there and in my copious spare time), and for most of a week things were going better. I actually canceled my appointment last Thursday, in part* because I wasn't sure it was absolutely necessary.
Perhaps inevitably, it was on Thursday that I got up and realized that while my knee was continuing to feel better, my ankle felt like I'd sprained it the week before and was now on the mend. Slowly.

And equally inevitably, it has gotten worse since. Today I'm in enough pain that I'm skipping the last day of Arisia. No volunteer t-shirt for me. Fuck.

What's going on? Well, presumably I've been favoring that leg, or else holding it funny to compensate for the whole business with the knee, and that's compromised the ankle somehow. And possibly footware's played some roll, and certainly attempting various things yesterday that I shouldn't have tried** has contributed to why it feels so much worse today.

But it all feels so unfair. For my last six sprained ankles, I've done something dumb that put immediate stress on the ligament concerned. And that hurts, but at least you can tell yourself that you'll try not to do that again.
But what the ^%&%* was I supposed to do to prevent this?

----------

This computer's about out of power. And I've got too many things on my plate--even apart from a busted leg. I guess I'm going to try to drive out to the old-school shoe store sovay and family recommended. "Try" because I'm not at all sure either my car or my leg is going to be up to this. Wish me luck.


* The more important considerations being the very real question of whether my $£%^&* insurance is going to pay for any of this, and secondarily the fact that I was hoping to be doing setup for Arisia, of which more later.

** Contradancing and hitting people with plastic swords, for two. Y'know, the normal things people do at Cons.
choco_frosh: (Default)
Meantime, just to make life still MORE fun: on the way back from practice on Wednesday, I got a voicemail from my landlady. The driveway was being repaved the next day: I'd have to move my car.

Well, that's annoying, but not a MAJOR problem. Since we have a driveway, I've never gotten a parking permit for my car, but we have a 2-day visitor pass. I moved it (in the rain), and stuck the parking pass in the window.

Yesterday, I got ANOTHER voicemail. The driveway's done, but it can't be parked on until the asphalt hardens. Which will take a week.
1) WTF?
2) That's...a lot longer than two days.*

%$^&*(. I guess the best solution--and it's not a GOOD solution, but I think it'll work--is just to hope that the parking inspectors don't notice over the weekend. Then next week, I'll drive to work every day. (Groan.)** That'll mean I leave at 7:30 AM, and get back around 6:30 PM: Presumably parking inspectors don't work at night.
$£%*&^(.

Hell with it. I should go to bed. Have some amusing British tweets to cheer you up.


* But not NEARLY as long as it takes to get a Resident parking pass!
I've ordered one, but that's a two-week process, IF they even accept my iPhone photo of my RCN bill as proof of residency.

** Oh ^%$(*&, Wednesday. Choir practice.
It says something about Boston that there is no WAY that I can get there in time by car, although it's relatively simple by public transit.
Welp, I'll see if I can leave it somewhere at Brandeis overnight. Or maybe in Waltham? Failing that, pay for overnight parking at the Brandeis railroad station.

Meantime, my roommates are watching Star Trek: Enterprise. Why does Data want to have sex with the Borg chick. That doesn't seem remotely psychologically plausible.
choco_frosh: (Default)
Today started with me slamming one of my fingers in the door while leaving my house.

It actually got worse from there.


(No, before someone panics, no further physical injuries, but work went insane again today. And trying to work with a throbbing finger hasn't helped.)
choco_frosh: (Default)
Argh.

So there's this dichotomy:
μέν: This morning I processed a couple of letters* addressed to "Herrn X,** Department of Y, Z University". And something inside me wondered, Why don't I get letters to Herrn Schreiber anymore? Why don't I have a REAL job, doing something prestigious, corresponding internationally? Why, basically, am I eating these husks?

δε: On Friday, as some of you know, I left my credit card at a Friendly's. Sunday night, I was attempting to remove the air conditioner that my roommate had lent me from my window...
You know those scenes - in movies, in dreams - where something drops into the bottomless pit, while the protagonist scrambles frantically to hold onto it? Well, I recreated that with the AC.

Fortunately, there wasn't anything underneath it other than my landlady's lawn, so only the AC got totaled.
But now, thanks to my klutzhood, I am temporarily without a credit card, and out the cost of a replacement air conditioner, and it's times like these - note I say LIKE these - that I wonder why I'm even allowed to go on existing at all.

I want to be able to forgive myself, so that I can enjoy this week*** ...but that's going to be hard. And unfortunately, I could call up my parents, but ... ...actually, let's not get into that.

σύνθεσις: 1. Either way, thinking about these things makes me feel terrible.
2. On a partly unrelated note, Maybe I should go back on antidepressants. I stopped because μέν they weren't making me happy per se, δε so I possibly needed some other combination of drugs, but for THAT I really want an actual qualified psychiatrist prescribing 'em, and I don't really have the time to do all those appointments, δε I could manage without the drugs, wasn't suffering from anhedonia or anything. But I'm having trouble...humaning, as I think of the verb.
More about this later, maybe.
3. ...I should finish this up, and try to get my smart phone activated before my lunch break is up.


* among 2000+.

** For non-linguists: Herrn is the accusative form of the German Herr: letters in the German-speaking world are usually addressed "Herrn [or Frau] X".
μέν and δε are Greek particles: both have multiple meanings, but the important thing is that they are used to set up sentences in the form of "On the one hand...but on the other hand..." My Greek textbook REALLY liked this construction, so it got used a LOT, and consequently it's one of the things I actually remember.

*** The non-work parts are going to be pretty awesome! Work, not so much, but...
choco_frosh: (Default)
Things I should not be surprised about:

- The website of my cheap, piece-of-$#!7 health insurance is a cheap piece of $#!7.

- Yesterday it was a perfect fall day. Today it is apparently Louisiana.*
- It still hasn't rained yet.

- I did not get ANYTHING done this weekend!

Screwit, I'm gonna go make cookies and claim that as an accomplishment or something.

* OK, not really. Louisiana would be much worse. But also, raining.
choco_frosh: (Default)
Well, shoot.

I was toying with the idea of taking off some time at the end of the month and actually going on retreat: spending a few days at the (certainly crazy, possibly even corrupt, but very nice in person) monastic community down on the Cape. Checking out their website, it appears that this is, indeed, something that one can do...although they'd probably want me to give them a bunch of money. (Though not oodles more than I'd pay for a B&B.)

No, the problem is that I've apparently burned through most of my vacation time, and am now tentatively committed to completely torch what's left looking after Peter in November...while G. is (ironically) on retreat.*

Fuck this job.**

Weather: Way too fucking hot.


* Well, or a clergy conference. Something vaguely along those lines.

** This sentiment is deepened by the fact that my cheap overlords in Georgia are being (typically) stupid about overtime; that I spent a pointless amount of time on the phone with a parent who had overnighted a refrigerator, and who then had the gall to complain to my boss about the quality of all of our phone skills; and most of all, by the fact that the day started with UPS dumping a load of packages on our doorstep several hours early...so that they could come back later with more. That sort of thing tends to blight one's enthusiasm.
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15. March:
Gah, OK, so apparently having had to jump through several hoops to get health care through my current employer...they're now dropping us from their health plan at the end of this month. We have two weeks to jump through ANOTHER set of hoops to get BACK on MassHealth. F---.

(And this is why my lenten discipline took a break today.)

...Yeah. I *really* would like to get that research job. Soon. Then I could stop *worrying* about health care.
(They haven't gotten back since last week. No news is not good news in this case. So this was already a bad week, and then today we found THIS out.)

Addendum )

ETA, 3/16: The one result of a mostly useless conference call with Corporate on the subject was to learn that they're now waiting until the end of NEXT month to drop us from the health plan. So we have some breathing room.
Still no news.
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Subrealm: Why I'm not going to Burns Night

So there's this thing in the D&D universe where it is sometimes possible to resurrect a dead character, but the spell involves powdered diamonds.

I am coming to realize that cars work on a similar principle.

"Oh, OK," said [personal profile] sovay, who was cheering me up/listening to me bitch about the whole affair afterwards. "So I *thought* that your car had died catastrophically a couple of years ago, but in fact you brought it back to life by pouring money into it.
Yes, yes I did. And then I did it again this weekend.

See, I'd been kinda worrying that something like this was going to happen. It's been really cold, and I'd driven the car maybe once between getting back from England and this past Wednesday. Wednesday I got gas, because I was about to run out, and having made it back from the gas station...well, the battery light was on, but I figured that that was just the cold, and not being driven much. Thursday I went out to stock up on stuff* for Peter's visit. I got to the library without incident. Getting out of the library parking lot...my car stalled, and refused to start again.
I cursed, but was unsurprised. (See above.) What I *didn't* know was wtf I was going to do about it. I called Sovay to ask if her cousins had jumper cables; I called [personal profile] teenybuffalo to ask if she had any; I even called my roommate (the one with no car) to ask if he had any thoughts. Eventually, somebody pointed out that my car insurance might be able to help, and they were right. I called Progressive; Progressive charged me fifty bucks and paged a repairman [A] to come by with jumper cables. Everything looked like it was gonna be ok. I went out to my car to wait for the repair guy.

It is at this point that this story changes from mild tragedy to black farce. Because I tried turning the car on (just for the hell of it)...And it turned on.

Lessons learned, #1: This does not mean your car is in proper working order.

SO I let it run for a few minutes...

Lessons learned, #2: It actually takes like 15-20 minutes to charge a dead battery.

...and then called repair guy [A] to tell him he wouldn't be needed after all, and drove out of the parking lot.

Lessons learned, #3: NEVER DO THIS.

My car stalled less than two blocks further on. The dude behind me helped me push it to the side of the road (into a bus stop, coincidentally)., but I was pretty much screwed.
I called Progressive back, asked if I could de-cancel the cancellation. They said "Ooooh boy..." but ultimately pages another repair guy [B] (since repair place [A] hated my guts now.) The downside was that he wouldn't be there for an hour.

Shortly after this, a DIFFERENT random dude [C] showed up with a tow truck. I told him I had help coming. He went away, showed up again a while later, and offered to give me a jump pro bono. (Well, and in the hope of a tip, which I gave him.) So he got my car going...
"Your alternator light's on, though, so I'm not sure how far your gonna make it..." he noted.

Lessons learned, #4: Random dudes in tow trucks are sometimes right AND not trying to screw you out of cash, and I could have spared myself some pain and uncertainty if I'd just told him "Oh, in that case would it make sense for you to tow me to your place?"

Because he was right. Attempting to actually DRIVE the car caused it to stall out.

I called my roommate again and begged him to Google me a towing service.

Lessons learned, #5: Very few towing services are still operating at 11pm.

The local one didn't pick up, so I called the one in Waltham (who we'll call [D}), which (a) is near my workplace, and (b) I thought was the one I'd taken the car to before.**

He took my car, charged me an arm, told me he'd give me a discount on the leg if he did the servicing. I said Great, and went to mourn my fate chez Sovay.
As it turned out, my car was ready the next day. This was actually NOT good news, since I'd planned my evening around taking Peter home on the train. Now, I guess, Grace was gonna have to pick ME up, then drop us both at [D}...once we actually found it.

And then, as often happens, it appears that one thing going wrong (not even sure which) had taken out the adjoining systems. My battery was leaking; my alternator*** had seized up totally; one of the belts linking alternator to drive train had died violently. They had a diagram in the waiting room, with things related to your power train highlighted in red. I needed most of them replaced.

(The irony is that I'd emailed my Aunt just before all this happened. "PS: Tell Abe the car's still running," I tacked on to the end.
Lessons learned, #6: Avoid saying things like this. It attracts attention from the demons who administer Murphy's Law.
)

Total damage to credit card...let's suck it up and look at that bill again...$758.61.

So yeah. Originally, I was planning to join [personal profile] teenybuffalo and any other Scottish/folksinging/drinking enthusiasts at the Burren tomorrow for Burns Night. But as-is...I really don't feel like celebrating. Or spending any more money.

* Where by "stuff" I of course mean groceries and Dragonbreath novels.
** Answer: No. Also, the OTHER guy in Waltham had, at least according to [D}, screwed the oil pan over so thoroughly that he wasn't gonna touch it himself. %$^Y&UPOI.
*** WTF they call it an alternator, when "Generator" would be a less confusing term, is beyond me.
choco_frosh: (Default)
Are there words for these?

1. A decadent food item (or meal, or perhaps any item) that you buy because life is horrible and yet you need to be able to face it: e.g. second breakfast of protein and fat and caffeine, between two 2-hour car drives when you're short on sleep and have a job interview at the end of the second one and also you apparently Can't Have Nice Things in other areas of your life.

2. Any truly unnecessary hoop that a potential employer makes you jump. E.g.: job interviews for call-center candidates supplied by a staffing agency; any interview or application question along the lines of "What attracts you about this position?"
(I long for the day when my finances are stable enough that I can give the honest answer: "The money, of course.")

3. Any feeling that is ironic in the circumstances: in this case, rage and frustration because calmingmanatee.com is taking too long to load.


There probably is a word for the feeling where the less-than-ideal-but-ok job/situation you thought you had in the bag suddenly evaporates, though, even though I can't recall what it is.
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Just finished a letter to my Mom with the phrase This past week has been mostly terrible, is what I'm saying.

That it has not been ENTIRELY terrible is due almost solely to the generosity of various awesome friends: chief among them Squigamunk and [personal profile] sovay. The former wins the Best Former Student Ever award after taking me and Peter out to brunch, and then off to the nearest ball field, noting that my tires were a bit flat and then offering me the use of an air pump, and then tustling with said 7-y-o around and over and under her much-prized inflatable Velociraptor.
Sovay allowed me to gate-crash her family taking her out to a post-reading supper, when I hadn't eaten in many hours and was desperately in need of companionship, calories, and sympathy all at once. A shorter time commitment, but I needed it far more, and it felt like even more of an imposition.

Now I am going to go wash the sand out of my hair, and fall into bed. Today was much less of a pure river of the water of bobcat than my last couple of days at work, but even so: I'm too exhausted for job searching, or even a proper update, and I need to go wash road sand out of my hair.
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ME: Do you know what sucks about job applicating?
BARRISTA: All of it?

[She officially wins the conversation, and also is my hero now.]

ME: ...Yes! That. But also,
(1) When you have to list "That one time when you were working for your parents" on your résumé...
BARRISTA: Do you really have to list that?
ME: Weeelllll, it would be helpful in this case. Especially when
(2) Two of the people you would otherwise be using as references are dead.
choco_frosh: (Default)
Bloody neighbours left their car blocking the driveway, and then inexplicably disappeared.

(This wouldn't be my issue, exc. there's a - unnecessary, as it turned out - parking ban for this evening...)
choco_frosh: (Default)
I am in a bad %$^(&*) mood right now.


I got rejected for the Harvard cataloging job I was hoping to get.

I looked at all the likely job websites yesterday without result; this leaves me with* roughly zero motivation to look at all the second-string options today.

My employer/client in Germany is giving me the runaround.* He emailed me about a mammoth editing project yesterday; I wrote back to say Sure, I can do that by Friday, expecting that he'd be emailing me the actual document that evening.
I still do not have the actual document.
(And also, every passing hour is one less that I have to work on this %$^&( thing, and therefore increases the likely stressfulness of actually getting the job done.)

Due to the second and third points, I have spent most of today alternating between checking mail every three seconds, playing Civ3, and working on a graphics projects.**


...Oh, and OLD bad news: my sister-in-law didn't get into Tufts, so they won't be moving to Boston this winter as we had all (for various reasons) hoped.

Grr.

* In his defense, it sounds like this is because the end client is giving HIM the runaround.
On the other hand, this is the second week in a row that something like this has happened.

** And I can't figure out WHAT I was thinking the first time I designed that spiral staircase, since I can't figure out how I can get it to the second floor of the bell tower in any reasonable fashion; and it looks like I'm going to have evacuate my troops from Argos. So those distractions aren't exactly improving my mood.
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Bad News: The little part that attaches the cable to my laptop self-destructed last week. While I was still in the last throes of grading.

Good News: My computer-part guy didn't have a replacement, but he WAS willing to let me use his spare HP power cord.
For the entire weekend, as it turned out.
So mad props to Pierre's of the Old Port!

More Good News: I talked the guys at H.R. Distributers, who'd sold me the part in the first place, into getting the company to send me/them a replacement cord. Free.
So big kudos to them. (And actually, also to Pierre again, since it was he who pointed out that Manhattan would supposedly do that.)

Bad news: I didn't get the archivist job at York.

Good news: Uh...I guess moving transatlantic would've made life inconvenient?* And...I guess it's good to know sooner rather than later, so I don't have to keep holding that weekend free...
No screw it, this is pretty much ALL bad news. (If not unexpected.) Espec. because
More Bad News: This means I have to go back to square one on job applicating. And you all KNOW how much I love that!

For today, though, I should get back to copy-editing.**

Additional Bad news: I have what I initially thought was a really bad allergy flareup, but is now looking increasingly like the 'flu. Needless to say, this does not improve my mood OR my productivity. (It is an event that violates the Chez Geek principle!)

* Though, in fact, only slightly more so than moving to DC, which is also looking faintly possible. Also, guess which place's weather/culture is going to get on my nerves faster?

** I believe I told you how the guy in Esslingen dumped several projects in my lap just before Finals week. I got those done.
He gave me more.
choco_frosh: (Default)
Reasons I hate study guide preparation:

1. Tedious, fiddly, stressful.

2. One of the major annoyances of World History - namely, trying to cram too much material into too little space - in concentrated form.

3. Foreknowledge that students will complain about it.

4. Invariably makes me realize that I've been inadvertently sexist in my coverage all semester. (Reminds me that I did the same thing last year/semester, promised myself amendment of life, and failed to do better.)


5. I should not have to work during Triduum.

6. Especially after singing five services in 3.5 days.

7. Designing romanesque churches, playing antiquated computer games, and rereading A Clash of Kings all seem like much more worthwhile endeavors.

_______
I going to drink now. (Well, like a glass.) Then sleeeeep.
choco_frosh: (Default)
Well, drat.

As some of you know, a couple of months ago I applied for a job writing abstracts of articles for EBSCO, which maintains one of the main databases of electronic journals and the like. I've done this several times in the past without results; this time, I actually got an interview. And it actually went reasonably well.

Then I heard nothing from them for two months.

Given this (and the fact that I needed to, y'know, tell MECA whether I was going to be around next semester),* I called the person who interviewed me at EBSCO t'other day. And it appears that EBSCO's higher-ups may, in fact, be *pulling* the position. It's not absolutely certain, of course; but definitely means back to the drawing board for me.

(This does explain a few things, of course: not only the fact that she never got back to me, and the disjunct between what seemed like a perfectly nice supervisor (and team) and a company that is notably bad at telling you in a timely fashion whether you've actually been hired or not...)

sigh, fml, apply for editing jobs...

* Or at any rate I thought I did. A frantic phone call to my department head revealed that when I told him I wouldn't be teaching here next year, he interpreted that to mean "next academic year", whereas I, not being willing to commit when I might be moving to Massachusetts on two weeks' notice, had meant "next calendar year". So on the plus side, I have at least a part-time job in the New Year. On the minus side, it's a job teaching a course I don't like much, and that I need to tear the stuffing out of and redesign so it sucks less.
Well, and of course it pays fairly badly.
choco_frosh: (Default)
Tonight's cleanup of the apartment (before the exterminator drops by for a follow-up visit tomorrow) turned out to take much less time than I'd anticipated. This was partly due to the fact that a good deal of the setup had been done a week ago: the bookshelves were still away from the wall, as was my bureau, for example. I was also being much less hard-core about everything this time, so I hope I didn't forget anything really crucial.
The main reason, though, was that I was planning on spending two hours or so in the laundromat, so as to wash my sleeping bag *properly* before drying it (since I seem to still be being bitten, which in turn would imply that some of the little bastards survived, and have colonized it; but an hour in the dryer on high should take care of that...)
But when I walked in there, with my laundry and my computer, the guy behind the counter told me that they were closing early, for the holiday. "Of course you are," I said. Because it's been that kind of a week. Or that kind of a year.
I was going to say that I can't catch a break, but that's not true. Mercy Hospital decided to have, well, mercy on my financial state and not charge me for my (somewhat unnecessary) visit in October; the ambulance company from the shoulder-dislocation before that did the same, and sent me a partial refund; and my parents are going to spring for a large chunk of...whatever needs paying for, which will hopefully be a bed and some credit card debt, rather than the exterminator's fees. But what I HAVE had is: a seemingly continuous series of crises, where every time I survive (or, frequently, just learn to cope with) one, another one immediately shows up. (Post-holiday blues and shopping merge into frantic syllabus preparation, which is immediately followed by a week of single-parenting, after which I find out about the bedbugs.) And I now have a student whinging about her grade from last semester, but that's minor: I can only hope that this is ENOUGH, and that nothing worse happens tomorrow or Wednesday.
But I'm not counting on it.

Some random jottings from last week:
- When a ham sandwich is the best thing that happens to you all day. [Note: and now I have finished that chunk o' ham--thx again, sovay!--so I don't even have that...]
- When your life decisions start to feel like the free piece of furniture that you picked up, the one that gave you bedbugs.
- Teaching is to me as selling sausages is to Dibbler.

...Speaking of scruffy merchants, I was on MyBobs.com this evening, but it looks like their mattress prices are even higher than Sear's. I need to do more comparison shopping, groan. And then probably hire a truck (again!) to pick it up. At some point in my copious free time.

Well, I guess I have the rest of this evening.
choco_frosh: (Default)
I have bedbugs. AGAIN.

I really didn't need this.

I have thrown out the mattress that I got for free back in September, and that is the most likely of several possible culprits. Meantime, we're going to be exterminating, Dalek-style...

The landlord called in a pest inspector today. Unfortunately, he called in a company which specializes in termites; so I do not have a lot of confidence in their finding no evidence of bedbugs in the apartment...
(This is why I wanted to call in the guys with the bedbug-sniffing dogs. grumble.)
* Some remarks of the exterminator-dude suggest, otoh, that one of the OTHER apartments may have been the one that called in with bedbugs. wtf.

* And we're presumably getting treated in any case.

* Examination of the Maine statutes suggest that the landlord may be responsible for paying for the whole affair. (Which, I admit, is odd.)
* Landlord does not look like he is going to go along with this without a fight.

Even if he DOES decide to be reasonable about this, though, I didn't need this. Not emotionally, not financially. I'm already about $500 further in debt to my credit card than I can pay off this month, and am shortly going to be bleeding cash to
- rent a truck to take the mattress to the dump, and
- buy a new mattress. And an actual bedframe, this time, to ensure that any surviving bedbugs don't colonize it from the rug.

And it's the beginning of the semester.
And a lot of my life choices are starting to look like this mattress: seemed like a really sweet windfall at the time, but in hindsight have cost me. A lot.

Fuck it, this day is fired. I'm going to drink Kraken and re-read "Through Depression and Back with Ursula" and/or P.G. Wodehouse.

There's no guarantee, of course, that tomorrow is going to be any better.
choco_frosh: (Default)
My checkbook arrived in the mail today--it turned out that I'd left it at my grandparents the day after TG, and then grandma mailed it to the wrong address. On examining it, I'm /slightly/ less broke than I thought, and it turns out my Dad owes me money, rather than the other way around. So good news.

Bad news: the large pile of very bad in-class essays that I now have to grade. (I guess this will be good preparation for next week, when I have a large pile of end-of-semester essays to grade. They will suck much less overall, but also be about four times longer, so that the Suck goes on for much longer.)
Time to do the dishes, brew up a cup of Evil Forest coffee,* and have a few hours of masochism...

* Named for the character/place in Things Fall Apart, this is bad homebrewed coffee with chilies, cocoa, and probably vodka. My own invention.

ETA: Aunt Sue, that was NOT a good time to call.
Also? I hate it when the essays start out bad, and then you look back at the ones you graded early on and they look pretty good, on second thought, because the ones you're dealing with now are so much worse.

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