Seven Years

Blindness separates us from things, but deafness separates us from people.
– Mark Ross

I’ve been so distracted this past week that, for the first time since it happened, I forgot that yesterday was the anniversary of my hearing loss.  Here’s my post from last year.

2,190 Days

Born Free

Man has always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much – the wheel, New York, wars, and so on – while all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time.  But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man for precisely the same reason.
– Douglas Adams

This made my day:  Teens Rescue Dolphins Trapped in Ice.  It’s no secret how much I love dolphins, and this story brought tears to my eyes, though I was smiling so big by the end.

Disclaimer: the link is to Towleroad, “A Site with Homosexual Tendencies” (their words, not mine).  There’s nothing offensive at that particular link, in my opinion, but I wanted to let you know, just in case.

Miscellania

I think housework is the reason most women go to the office.
– Heloise Cruse

Ok, here you go – proof that OxyClean really does work:

If you know where to look when you’re in the bedroom, you can just ever so slightly see that the carpet has a kind of greenish tint where the stain was, but I don’t even notice it anymore. Isn’t that amazing? The stuff I used is called Woolite OxyDeep, and it comes in a blue spray bottle (I just checked and realized it’s not an official OxyClean product, I guess, but who cares?).

I wasted hours and $25 renting a steam cleaner from the grocery store that only marginally made the stain better, even after treating it directly with undiluted carpet cleaner first (which just made it turn green). I don’t know what made me think of OxyClean, but I figured it was worth a shot. Let me tell you, I could have saved $20 and nearly all the hours, because you just spray that stuff on, let it sit for a few minutes and blot it up. It will still be damp and it will still keep working. I left it for a while after I first applied it and blotted it, thinking I’d come back to it and do another round, but when I went back in the bedroom, the stain had practically disappeared! Yay!

Also, two things I forgot about the beach:

1. I spend so much time in the pool, that I always forget that ocean water is salty. It’s kind of a unique surprise.

2. All around Virginia Beach there are dolphin sculptures all decorated differently. See:

I’m sorry, what was that? Oh – of course I had to take pictures of all of them!

Sorry things have been slow around here. The thing that was maybe going to resolve itself last Tuesday is still officially unresolved, which is actually much better for me in the long run, but still kind of hard to deal with at the moment, so I haven’t felt much like writing. Or, I have, but I’m not sure what’s really ok to write about right now, so I’ve been kind of taking a break. Hopefully more regular posting will resume shortly!

Why I Should Never Have Children

“It happens every time – they all become blueberries!”
– Willy Wonka, in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Thursday, I had to be at work by 8, which is 45 minutes earlier than I usually get there. In order to do that, I had to take the 7 o’clock shuttle, which meant I had to get up at 6. That is one hour before my usual waking time, and it is not good.

Anyway, I got up at 6:10 and got out of the shower at 6:30. I needed to eat something, so I whipped up a blueberry smoothie in the kitchen and brought it into my bedroom so I could drink it while I was getting dressed. You see where this is going already, don’t you?

I was standing near my dresser putting lotion on my legs. In between, I was taking sips of the smoothie (from a straw, without picking the cup up off the dresser). I do not know how it happened, but I pumped more lotion out of the bottle and moved my hand towards my body, and the next thing I know, disaster struck:

Yeah, that’s blueberry smoothie all over my beige carpet (in my apartment, which I rent). Awesome. And of course, now it’s 6:45, and I need to be out of the house in about 12 minutes, and my legs are covered in smoothie. I had to hop back in the shower to rinse off, slap lotion back on, do the quickest hair and make-up ever, and get the hell out of house, which meant I had no time to even clean it up, not that I had any idea where to even begin.

And if you know me personally, you know that this causes me, like, actual physical pain to look at. My bedroom is so pretty, and now it’s covered in blueberry smoothie. And it’s not even centered in front of the dresser, so that I could just move the area rug from in front of the closet to cover it up! And this is why I should never have children. Because I am a control freak and they are going to hate me.

I’m exaggerating (a little), of course, and tomorrow I’m going to rent a steam cleaner from the grocery store, but I’m worried that this is not going to come out and then I’ll have to live here for another year (I just renewed my lease) seeing this every single day.  Boo.

The Day Before the End of the World

Dread is the first and strongest of the . . . kinds of fear. It is that tension, that waiting that comes when you know there is something to fear but you have not identified what it is.
– Orson Scott Card

Imagine that you’re a perfectly healthy 25-year-old woman. You live on your own, hold a job, work out five days a week, and love music and books and spending time with friends. Normal, right?

Then imagine yourself on a Sunday. You wake up, make breakfast, then go to the gym for your weekly swim. Afterwards, you shower and head to the mall. You walk around for a while, buy a couple of books you’ve been wanting and a really great pair of shoes.

Later that evening, you’re relaxing with the Sunday night crime dramas. As you get up from the couch to get a drink, you feel light-headed. You were lying down and got up quickly, so you don’t think much of it. But the sensation doesn’t go away, and you realize it’s the same sensation you had one summer night three years ago: Whether you’re lying down or sitting up, you feel like if you laid your head back, you might not be able to lift it back up; you’re disoriented. You call your brother, because he’s the one who took you to the emergency room that night three years ago, and you ask him if they did anything for you then other than run some tests and send you home where you slept it off and felt fine the next morning. He says no, so you decide it’s nothing.

As the night wears on, though, the dizziness worsens, your head starts to pound, and you notice that the people on television are starting to sound very far away, and very high-pitched. Now you’re worried, because you lost the hearing in your right ear as a little girl, and the thought of losing the hearing in your left ear is unbelievably frightening. It’s now 11:00 at night. You call your brother back and explain your symptoms, trying not to cry. He’s in North Carolina, though, and can’t help you himself, but he wants you to go to the ER. You shouldn’t drive, due to the dizziness, so you call a friend to come get you. While you’re waiting, you page your regular doctor, who calls back and, after hearing your symptoms, diagnoses a likely inner ear infection and says to come see him in the morning. You decide to go to the ER anyway.

The ER is empty and you’re seen fairly quickly. The doctor asks for the symptoms, and looks in your eyes, nose, and ears with his little light. He’s clearly stumped. He can’t see anything but a small amount of fluid in your right ear, and he tells you to go home and take Sudafed to drain the fluid and ibuprofen for the headache.

You call your parents when you get home to let them know what’s happened, and what the doctor said. They tell you to keep them posted and that they love you. You turn out the light and go to bed, unaware that you’ve heard their voices clearly for the last time.

Ways I Almost Died Today

“I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve it by not dying.”
– Woody Allen

1. Outside Baltimore, some big linoleum tile-like things flew off the back of a poorly covered flatbed and landed on the hood of my car and skidded off and caused me and others to swerve onto the shoulder at 65 mph. When I stopped to inspect the damage, I was relieved to see that there were no scratches or dents on my hood and that I hadn’t, you know, crashed. It wasn’t until I stopped for lunch later that I realized it popped the emblem off the grill in front. Since I’m ok, I can afford to be pissed about the fact that my pretty car is now imperfect again.
2. On the Jersey Turnpike, two different 18-wheelers cut me off at 75 mph without using a signal, causing me to swerve into the (luckily empty) left lane.
3. On the Southern State Parkway on Long Island, a dumbass waiting to merge onto the highway (there are no merging lanes) decided that the best time to do it was when I was 500 feet from him and there was someone tailgating me.

I’m in New York for a long weekend to visit law school friends. I left NoVa this morning around 9:30 and arrived at my hotel around 3, amazingly in one piece. I just woke up from a nap, and I’m about to start getting ready for the annual Law Review banquet, which is the reason I chose this weekend to come up. I never said I wasn’t a nerd.

I’m coming home Sunday, I think, and I have my computer with me, obviously, but I’m not anticipating any more new content before Monday, so have a great weekend!

Hear Me Roar

Women are afraid of mice and murder, and of and very little in between.
– from The Second Neurotic’s Notebook, by Mignon McLaughlin

I was walking home from the bus last night and as I passed my car in the parking lot, I noticed a note on my windshield. I picked it up, turned it over, and found that some nice neighbor of mine had kindly advised me that I had a flat rear right tire. I went around to the passenger side, and sure enough, I did. Closer inspection revealed a screw lodged between the treads in the middle of the tire. I was inexplicably ill at the time, however, so I didn’t do anything about it last night.

Today, though, I was able to leave work early to come home and take care of it. Now, I’ve never actually changed a tire before, and I wasn’t convinced I could do it. I tried once, about 6 years ago, but I couldn’t get the lug nuts off no matter how hard I tried, and I sat in the parking lot and cried until someone took pity on me and stopped to help. (I’m not proud of that, but in my defense, it was three weeks after I lost my hearing, and two weeks after I’d fallen and torn my rotator cuff, and I’d just come out to the parking lot to discover I had a flat, so I was just about at the end of my rope.)

Anyway, luckily, there was no one in the space next to me, so I unloaded my trunk and strategically placed the removed items outside the empty space so that someone wouldn’t come careening into the space and kill me before I could triumph over the tire. See?

The stool I brought down from my apartment so I wouldn’t have to kneel on the pavement; I was glad more than once that I thought of that. Then, I carefully followed the instructions in my manual – so nice of them to provide that, I think – and popped off the hubcap, and was able, with a fair amount of effort on my part (that torn rotator cuff is going to be sore tomorrow, that’s for sure) to loosen the lug nuts. That’s when I knew I was home free.

Once the lug nuts were loose, I carefully placed the jack under the car precisely where the manual said to:

And then it took about 100 years to crank the thing up because I had to keep taking the wrench off at the end of each revolution because it would hit the ground. There’s probably a way around that, a secret that only boys know or something, but whatever. I got the big tire off and the little, puny, sad-excuse-for-a-tire spare on, lowered the jack, tightened the lug nuts and I was done! In under 35 minutes, and all by myself! I was quite proud; I even had axle grease all over my hands.

Then I drove to CostCo to see about replacing the tire. I was so psyched when the guy told me the screw was in the “perfect” place and I wouldn’t actually have to replace the tire, I could just get it plugged (the tires were close to brand new when I bought the car in November, so I was not happy at the prospect of having to replace one, if not two, of them). He couldn’t do it for me because I didn’t buy my tires there, so I drove to a service station to see if they could. They could and they did, and it only cost me $20! I gave the guy an extra $5 for himself because he did it so quickly and then spent about 10 minutes getting my jack and spare securely back in the trunk.

So, yay me! I feel oddly accomplished. This is the kind of thing I think a lot of women would automatically outsource, either to a significant other or to AAA, and I feel proud that I did it myself.

Maybe for an encore I should learn to change my own oil.

So That Happened . . .

And Man created the plastic bag and the tin and aluminum can and the cellophane wrapper and the paper plate, and this was good because Man could then take his automobile and buy all his food in one place and He could save that which was good to eat in the refrigerator and throw away that which had no further use. And soon the earth was covered with plastic bags and aluminum cans and paper plates and disposable bottles and there was nowhere to sit down or walk, and Man shook his head and cried: “Look at this Godawful mess.”
– Art Buchwald

Here’s the setup: My apartment complex runs a shuttle service to the Metro station every morning on the half hour between six and nine. At 7:00, 7:30, and 8:00, there are so many people waiting that often one bus can’t take them all. In the past, this meant that if you couldn’t get a seat on the shuttle, you had to make a run for the local bus, but you never knew for sure whether you’d be able to get a seat on the shuttle. After many complaints from residents, the complex apparently worked out a deal with the shuttle bus company that for those three times in the morning, the route would be serviced by two of the larger shuttle buses (which probably seat about 25-30 people each), one behind the other. The first bus would pick up until it was full and then head for the Metro; the second would catch the stragglers at the early stops and, usually, all the people at the last shuttle stop. This system has worked well for more than a month, and I thought everything was settled and going smoothly.

Then today, the first bus arrived in the form of a HUGE charter bus. I’m talking easily a 60-seater. This happened once before, prior to the 2-bus system. I assumed it would be the only bus today, as when all of the people at my stop (the second or third one on the route) got on, it was less than one-third full. But, instead of making the rest of the route (2 more stops), the driver made the first turn off to head to the Metro, which made no sense. Turns out there was the regular second bus behind him. I, who tend to be extra-conscious of the environmental impact of my actions, was quite distraught over this. I was sitting in the first seat of the bus, right behind the driver, and at the first stoplight, I inquired politely why we had such a big bus if we weren’t going to make the full route. Here’s what happened next:

Driver: Oh, well, y’all are usually all crowded together on the smaller bus. I thought I’d take the big bus today and let you have your space. [This is true, but only in the sense that all the seats are filled; it's not like we're packed in like sardines or anything]

Me: Ok, but this is such a waste –

Driver: No it’s not.

Me: Yes, it is. It’s a waste to drive this whole big bus that’s less than half-full when there are still other people to be picked up –

Driver: What do you care? Do you pay for it? Do you?

Me (stunned, not as quick on my feet as I would like): No, but –

Driver: Then what difference does it make? You don’t pay for it, it’s not a waste.

Me: Why are you jumping down my throat?

Driver: You people, somebody says something you don’t like, they’re jumping down your throat.

Me: No, when you interrupt me and don’t let me finish, then you’re jumping down my throat. I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t just bring the regular bus.

Driver: What do you care?

Me: I live in the world; I care because this is a waste of gas to take two buses.

Driver: No, it’s not, don’t worry about it.

[By this time, the light has turned green, and the driver has started moving forward through the intersection]

Me: But it is; there’s no reason to take two buses when this one’s not anywhere close to full. We could pick up all those people and still be only half-full.

Driver: [STOPS THE BUS, LIKE HE'S MY MOTHER OR SOMETHING] Do you want to get off? If you don’t like it, you don’t have to ride. You can get off the bus. Do you want to get off the bus?

Me (shocked into silence for a moment, then): Are you kidding me? Are you serious with this? No, I don’t want to get off. Like I want you take an even less full bus to the Metro.

Driver: Alright then. It’s not a waste. I just take the bus they tell me to take. If you got a problem with it, take it up with the company.

Me: I will, you can be sure of that, and I will also take your attitude up with them.

Driver: I don’t know what you’re talking about, attitude, but you do what you got to do.

[Someone else chimes in, I think in my defense, but I can't be sure]

Driver: We take two buses every day, and we’re taking two buses today, what’s the difference?

Me: At least one bus is full on the other days when you take two normal-sized buses.

Driver: Whatever. I take the bus they tell me to take. You don’t like it, you call them.

Me: I will.

[We head down the road, the Driver, as usual not obeying basic laws and rules of traffic; towards the end of the ride, he nearly rearends the car in front of us and lays on the horn]

Me (who admittedly should have kept my mouth shut at this point, but didn’t): What good will that do?

Driver: You got something you want to say to me?

Me: Yes I do, but I will talk to you about it at the station.

Driver: I’m not interested in talking you at the station. You got any talking to do, you call the company.

Me: Well, tell me: first you say you picked the big bus so we could have more room, then you say you just take the bus they give you – which is it? [I'm not a lawyer for nothing!]

Driver: I’m done talking to you. You don’t pay for this so what do you care?

Me: I do pay for this, because I pay rent. I asked you a simple question, and I think I’m entitled to an answer.

Driver: You want an answer, call the apartment people, call my company. I take the bus they tell me to take.

Me: Fine. I’ll call them, don’t worry.

[We arrive at the station. He stops the bus, we line up, me first, waiting for him to open the door. He does. I take one step and my foot slips. I land on my ass - hard - on the bottom step.]

Me (out loud, but to myself): That’s just perfect. [I gather my things, get off the bus, and don't look back]

S’posed to be some kinda irony, or something.

So Much for That Idea

Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings.  
– Jane Austen 

Sorry I didn’t return to regular programming – I got busy dealing with the body shop, the insurance adjustor, a lying student loan company supervisor (Oh, you’ll call me back in 48 hours, max?  Really?  I think someone’s pants are on fire.), and crappy apartment maintenance people (Oh, you can’t come today like you said you would, but you’ll be here first thing in the morning?  Really?  Oh, you’re sorry you couldn’t make it this morning, but it’s after hours now and a dishwasher is not an emergency but you promise you’ll be here tomorrow?  Really?  Oh, you couldn’t make it again today, but this time you super-duper promise you’ll make it tomorrow?  Really?  Suck on it.  If I get West Nile virus from the nasty, standing water in the bottom of my dishwasher, I may go all Lawyer on you.) – and frankly, was not in the mood for Things to Be Happy About.  But don’t you worry, I have a bang-up Christmas edition all ready to go for you – it will be like an extra present for you to open Christmas morning!

So the car: remember how I said how thankful I was that the damage wasn’t extensive?  Either I know nothing about cars, the body shop and insurance adjustor are ripping me off, or I jinxed myself.  I think it’s the first one, but I’m not positive.  We’re up to $2200 and they haven’t even put the car on the lift yet.  Awesome.  Thank god I wasn’t one of those people who said ”Oh, I never get in accidents, so I can handle a $1500 deductible.”  I know myself better than that, and went for $500.  That hurts, especially at the holidays, but it could be worse.

Remember also how I said how great my boss is?  He gave us Christmas presents yesterday, which I was not expecting at all (we already did our “annual round robin gift exchange,” you know).  Two words: Coach wristlet.  If you know anything about me, you know I do not care about labels and I would never buy myself Coach anything, but I was amazed at his generosity.  It’s beautiful and classic – plain black leather – but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it.  Does anyone use one of these?  I’m stumped in the face of such a thing.

Speaking of gifts, I am officially done, and everything is wrapped, as of last night.  Actually, that’s a lie.  I left one thing for my brother unwrapped because I may have to exchange it after I get to his house tonight and see if he already has it.  He won’t be there til Sunday night – he’s on an out-of-town job – so it will be safe.

And speaking of my brother, welcome him to the blogosphere, won’t you?  He’s not a great speller, but I love him anyway. 

Crash

“I started to slow down but the traffic was more stationary than I thought.”
– real statement on an accident claim form, borrowed from Funny Insurance Claims

We interrupt your regularly scheduled Tuesday programming to bring you this breaking news update:

Seriously? I’ve had my car exactly five weeks today, and some jackass stops IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD to wave at his friends on the corner, causing three cars behind him to stop short, which resulted in my hitting the guy in front of me. I’m fine – a little achy, and my head hurts, but that may be from the crying I did at the scene at first as well as the stress and frustration of being in an accident, so I’m keeping an eye on it and will definitely head to the emergency room if I start to feel worse. My brother has assured me that it’s a concussion, not whiplash, where you sometimes go to sleep and don’t wake up, so that’s comforting. The other driver is also fine, but achy as well, he said.

Unfortunately, I was the third car – I’m never “lucky” enough to be the one who gets rearended, I’m always the one doing the rearending (shut it, dirty girls) – and the jackass didn’t get hit or stay behind after the accident, so I’m on the hook for it.

I hit a Mercedes. The last guy I rearended (2005) was driving a Mercedes. I’m sensing a rivalry between my Saturns and all Mercedes in my path. But the driver, a young guy, could not have been nicer, especially after a witness (who was in car #1 that had to stop short) came back to the scene after having trailed the jackass and gotten his plate number and make/model of his car and explained what happened. She also waited with us for the police and offered to speak to our insurance companies as well. The friends the jackass was waving to didn’t bother to stick around as witnesses, which is no surprise, I suppose, but still sucks.

We called the police, and the officer was a bit of jerk at first, but mellowed out by the end. After some ersatz CSI-ing, he determined from my skid marks that I was only going about 20 miles an hour when I hit the brakes. As you can see from the picture, the damage honestly isn’t that bad, I’m just pissed because I love my car so much and driving a car that has body damage makes me feel like a loser. The Mercedes has similar damage on its rear bumper – you can tell how hard I hit the brakes because of how high the damage is on my bumper and how low it is on his.

So, boo. I called the insurance company and filed the claim. I gave them the jackass’s info and the witness’s name and number, and we’ll see if they do anything with it. I just know my rate is going to go up, which bites, and it’s going to be a pain trying to get this fixed before the weekend – I’m going to Richmond Friday night, but I think my radiator is leaking because of the accident, so I might have to get a rental to drive that far. Thankfully, my boss is very understanding, so I have the morning off (and the day, if I need it) to get the car to the body shop for an estimate. Hopefully the adjustor will come soon and I can get everything taken care of quickly. And, on the bright side (it is Tuesday, after all), no one was hurt, the guy I hit and the witness were lovely people, the damage is not extensive, and I have good insurance.

Your regularly scheduled programming will return tomorrow.