What they don’t tell you is that once you drive it off the dealer’s lot, it’s no longer considered a “new” car.
That’s their hook - that if you get their insurance, they will reimburse you for the price of a new car. If you total it right away, which apparently they believe is a common occurrence. Scary.
I share a house with my brother, his wife, and her 4 kids from a previous marriage. The oldest daughter is 17, the youngest daughter just turned 10. In between are twin 14 year old boys. For the most part, they’re good kids. But they ARE kids, and siblings.
School hasn’t started back up yet. I work nights. My sleep time is normally when they’re in school.
The central air in the house went out the other day. The repairman has been there twice to get the problem solved. Which means that my sleep time is punctuated with kids being kids, the sound of power tools, and the dog, Brody. White German Shepherd. Beautiful dog, but I would not bet on him in a battle of wits against a doorknob.
If he’s inside, he barks constantly because the repairman is in his house. If he’s outside, he throws a fit because of the strange vehicle. And damn near ruptures his voicebox whenever anyone, friend or foe, leaves.
It’s rained nearly every day for the last week or so. But it hasn’t cooled the air any. In the Ohio Valley, it just adds to the muggy air, and stays so humid that you sweat going to get the mail.
So, temperatures in excess of 90 for days, extremely humid, with no central air and kids, dogs, and power tools during my sleep time.
Let’s temper the broad-brush statements. When I get up in the morning, I put on socks and shoes and I don’t take them off till I go to bed. If I’m at a pool or the beach, I’ll wear flip-flops or water shoes, but at work or running errands, but feet are covered.
And, for the record, I have very nice-looking feet. But my natural tendency to trip or smash my toes against furniture legs makes substantial footwear a necessity. So there. 
Hey, billing person, if you’re going to act like a first class asshole, don’t expect cooperation in return.
You get a person? I got a MRI about 2 months ago and they sent me a text asking for money. No explanation, just a text saying to give them hundreds of dollars. No itemization of services, just a dollar amount. No thanks, I’ll wait for the bill. But now they’re robocalling! Send me an actual bill, I’ll send you actual money! It’s not that hard!
Something similar happened to me a few years ago. My neighbor’s house was being remodeled, and the demo crew disturbed a nest. We scooped up the 3 baby squirrels, put them in a box, and within 15 minutes we saw the mother carry each one to a nearby tree in my yard. There was a grey one, a black one and an intermediate one. Later that year, I would see a grey, black and intermediate squirrel running around my yard. They all survived!!
But the big question is: Do you put them on sock-sock-shoe-shoe or sock-shoe-sock-shoe?
I’ve got that same thing going on too, except they billed my insurance company so theoretically they know how to bill. Me, they just call and tell me that I owe $X and where to send it. Uh, no. Send me an itemized bill or no money.
Oh, I’ve got an itemized bill. I’m also on a payment plan which supposedly now “isn’t enough” and “you’re due to go to collections if you don’t pay X right now.”
Well isn’t that too bad because I CAN’T AFFORD TO GIVE YOU ANY MORE RIGHT NOW. Be happy you’ve been getting what you’re getting.
Maybe they think your shoes are ugly.
A company in the office building my company is in allows male employees to wear shorts, t’s and flip-flops to work in the summer. And without fail, all of the men wearing sandals/flip-flops have crusty heels, and about 20% have **filthy **toenails. :eek::eek::eek::mad::mad::eek::eek:
Guys, if you’re going to wear sandals or flip-flops, de-crust the heels and (I can’t believe I have to say this) CLEAN UNDER YOUR TOENAILS.
Wait until you get the EOB from the insurance company. It will tell you how much you owe. Send that amount. If they charge differently demand an itemized bill of billed amount/paid amount/difference, plus any amounts that went toward deductible.
I hate companies that bill the second the service is rendered. When I worked for the Blues, they would back off when I told them, “This claim hasn’t been processed. I’m looking at it right now in the Blue Cross claim system. So, no, I’m not paying you until this claim finalizes, which is SOP. You shouldn’t be billing people until you find out what insurance pays. Yeah, I work here.”
I don’t get an EOB from the insurance company - somehow they made it so we have to go look online to see if something was paid. The first I even knew this bill existed was when I got the “give us money” message on the phone, because its for the guy that read my MRI. Which I still shouldn’t owe for, because it was part of an ER visit and in network, but UHC (may they be nuked from space) insists that it goes to my deductible. Anyway, I need a paper, itemized bill so I can submit it to flex spending for reimbursement. Plus, its the principle of the thing - you can’t bill me, but I’m supposed to send you almost $150? I think - no.
I posted a version in the commercials thread, but thought this was a mini-rant kinda tale, given that my mom didn’t even think to communicate something important. For decades.
Anyhow, we’ve always been Swiss. My dad loved that he was “a Schweitzer”. His pride got us kids a trip to ‘Die Mutterland’ (Ye Olde Countrie, featuring the little ski village where all the Digspiels come from). Where we met third-cousins and I got hand-written into the Big Book of Swissiness. So I’m all official, I could get a Swiss passport if I want, and we make fondue and root for the Swiss soccer and Olympic teams (Go, Heidi Diethelm Gerber in the “Luftpistole” event!) and we have a bigass cowbell on our mantle … you get the idea.
But I’m sixth generation, and I just the other day thought “Hey, wait, there are a lot of non-Schweitzers in the family tree”. So, on a lark, I asked my (Scottish/English) mom if I was predominately British or Swiss, and she casually said “Oh, no, you’re probably mostly Dutch.”
WHAAAAAT? (or rather, “Vut?”)
Well, it’s a little jarring, but I guess it doesn’t really change anything.
Especially my ingrained cravings for chocolate.
Why is the gymnastics on so fucking late?
It’s on during NBC’s prime time.
It’s one of NBC’s premiere events, so of course they’re going to schedule it to attempt to hold on to viewers as long as possible.
Hey, the Milka cow was Dutch… 
sock-sock-shoe-shoe of course. I’m a civilized woman after all!
No kidding! The 6-year-old adores gymnastics. She could only watch about 15 minutes of them last night, before bath- and bedtime. If it had been Saturday night, I would have let her stay up late, but the school bus comes early, and Lily is evil when sleep-deprived. (Takes after me.)