Myself should like to be he whom pulls the trigger.
If I’m correcting to get out of fishtailing, don’t try to fucking pass me! I’m worrying about the two parked cars. My truck and you trying to inch around around on a patch of black ice!
My mini-rant: I have come to realize that I am probably too old now to ever get “early-onset dementia.”
Yeah, I have a real fear of that, since my dad had it. If I can hold on a couple of years, it’ll just be Plain Ol’ Regular Dementia. That, I’m okay with (hey, I worked hard - - I deserve to be a bit ‘out of it’!)
My Mother complained of hospital testing, “I’ve spent so much money, I wish they would find something wrong with me!”
We survived the move. Up until an hour ago, I was wondering if we had forgotten a cat because Lucky was the only one yesterday who was willing to come out of their room and “look” around. Poor old guy would just manage to map the area and we would move his landmarks 
Which is all Karen’s fault. She is a slave driver. She wouldn’t let the movers unpack her kitchen and made me help instead. All of those clean dishes and pots and pans that the movers pulled out of the cabinets and wrapped in clean paper, then put in clean boxes cannot be used until they go through the dishwasher again. I was ready to get into a snit with her over it, but remembered that if the cook ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.
(I am allowed to run the dishwasher because I have never caused a kitchen fire with one of them. I probably shouldn’t say anything about that lest I jinx myself. I am the one who managed to set a gas fire with the microwave after all.)
Lucky has found the bed, knows where the litter box is and drinks water. He isn’t yammering at it, which is slightly alarming. This could be my fault, I replaced his white pagoda drinking fountain with a red one. When I find the white one, I’ll put it back out for him. After all these years, living with him yelling at his water fountain is like living next to a train line when the trains stop running. I kept waking up because our furry foghorn wasn’t going off.
I fucking HATE moving! I can’t find a goddamned thing, Wesley has attached herself to my ass and I can’t turn around without tripping over her, the smells are different, the sounds are different and I got lost looking for the bathroom last night because I couldn’t find any of the numerous and convenient light switches in the place. I’m also pretty sure that my Mexican bird of paradise is dying. I’ve had it since before I left Arizona and its been struggling with the moisture and cold. It was doing OK at our last home, but moving to that rental and then here along with the other stress its been under seems to have finished killing it.
I just fucking HATE moving.
I feel this pain. We moved constantly when Sr. Weasel was in graduate school. And the actual process was generally one disaster after another. On our drive out to New Jersey (Yes, we moved to New Jersey. Voluntarily), our moving truck broke down on the Ohio/Pennsylvania border. It couldn’t be repaired, so we stayed in a hotel overnight and then the next day we had to move all of our shit from the broken truck into a new one. Good times. (It took my husband months to get refunded for the hotel.)
Then when we moved from South Jersey to Central Jersey (after moving from Central Jersey to South Jersey two years prior), we decided to do it the ‘‘easy’’ way and pay for someone to pack our shit and drive the truck. During the two hour drive north, I shit you not, the moving truck was in an accident and had to be impounded for several days, with all our stuff in it. :smack: Multiple items were broken in the collision.
What’s worse, the movers did a catastrophically bad job packing our things. They put packing tape sticky-side down on our furniture, tearing off the finish when it was removed. So much of our shit was destroyed out of sheer incompetence that had nothing to do with the accident.
When we finally moved back home, I said I’m not moving for at least five years. Honestly, I could see us staying here longer. It’s a manufactured home, but a really nice, three bedroom one and we love it. It’s amazing what a difference having a sense of permanence makes.
May your adjustment period be over soon,** flatflined. ** And I hope your birdy feels better.
That’s…that is quite an accomplishment.
Is a Mexican bird of paradise a plant or an animal?]
And moving sucks, yes it does!
What the HELL is up with airline ticket pricing? We can get regular international tickets for a somewhat reasonable price, but business class? OVER $5000 EACH. We didn’t even look at first class. The entire honeymoon package- airfare, car, hotels, and incidentals- is just over $5000. Who on earth would pay DOUBLE that just for the flights???
So I’ve been keeping 4.4 GB of stuff on Dropbox. I use Dropbox for everything that matters to me, mostly writing files. I’ve used it for years. 25GB free space.
I got an email today saying that the new cap is 4GB of space and they are going to start charging me $80 per year (that’s a discounted rate!) to keep that extra 0.4 GB.
I would pay a nominal fee for that, but at a standard rate of $8 a month that is fucking outrageous.
I could have just deleted some files, but I’m so pissed I removed everything from Dropbox and shoved it into Google Drive.
For price comparison, Google Drive is free up to 15GB and then $2/month for up to 100GB. Because unlike Dropbox they actually fucking tier their storage options.
(Congratulations, if the honeymoon is for you). Businesses sending executives around on planes were the original target for these rates, I think, partly because it was deductible. Any unused seats would be available for upgrades. Now that executives don’t need to travel nearly as much in this digital age, I think Business class is mostly there as a place to dump upgraded passengers so that First class can be kept pure for the real nobs. Just my opinion, I’m no expert.
Sorry, I have no mini-rant of my own.
Because the company pays. It’s a sadly frequent mindset:
the company pays, so I’ll get a hotel that’s got more stars even though it’s further, the breakfast is worse and I won’t have time to try any of the additional features;
the company pays, so I’ll travel business;
the company pays, so I’ll take the largest car size acceptable to company policy rather than the one that would make most sense to our group size and location,
etc.
I’ve been in the situation of arguing with Corporate Travel because I wanted to travel Newark-Sao Paulo instead of Philadelphia-Chicago-Dallas-Sao Paulo. Corporate policy stated that travel had to be from the airport closest to your house. For those not familiar with the area, going from Downtown Philly (where I lived) to Newark was a matter of taking the subway and switching trains in Trenton, it actually was easier than getting to Philly Airport. I was able to win the argument by pointing out that since I was heading directly to a meeting upon arrival I was entitled to travel First Class. “Give me the direct flight coach, it’s half the time and half the price.”
It wasn’t my fault! It was an act of nature, or at least that’s what our homeowner’s insurance company tried to claim. (A hurricane came through and caused flooding that caused ground shifting and a gas pipe in the kitchen to break. By the time I got involved, the gas had been shut off to that part of the neighborhood, but enough remained in the pipe to ignite when the microwave turned on.)
It’s a plant. It is used in a lot of Phoenix landscaping. It is heat and drought resistant and has beautiful, showy flowers. Its really pretty amazing that it had survived so long in Houston, and its just a plant, but it was MY plant and I’m sad that its dying. I’ve cut it back pretty severely and have it inside to keep it warm and dry. It might come back in the spring…
Moving does indeed suck, but at least I haven’t had a move as bad as Spice.
Power, water and internet were all turned on when they were supposed to be, the movers were very careful with our things and our new home, there is a bakery/coffee place a couple of miles away that does amazing mochas, and there was only 1 accident on the floor. So, it went pretty well, but it still sucked.
Dear restaurant booth-hoppers:
It’s obnoxious enough for your entourage to go over to acquaintances at the table adjoining ours and stand there in a group for an extended period of time, loudly exchanging the latest news.
It’s beyond obnoxious for one of you to lean into our booth and drape yourself over the back of Mrs. J.'s seat, the better to commune with your buddies.
Which is why I was compelled to get up and (politely) ask the offender to get his ass the hell out of our booth. Which he sullenly did.
This restaurant has made our list of places to avoid during peak mealtimes.
That would be me. Traveling internationally for me is going to be a vacation. Philosophically it’s a time to relax and reduce frustrations. Being jammed in a small uncomfortable seat, wedged between other frazzled travelers, scrabbling for overhead bins, and sharing 4 toilets with 200 other people* is a horrible way to start a vacation. Beginning a vacation sitting in a comfortable seat with lots of space between it and the next while eating appealing food is a great.
Before you accuse me of being a 1%'er, I sacrifice in my daily life so I can travel in style. I drive an old car, don’t have cable TV or a smartphone and requisite expensive data plan nor do I drink expensive coffee drinks or whatever they serve at Starbucks and its ilk. I bring my lunch to work most days. All this keeps money in my pocket. I value fewer memorable big vacations more than the daily stuff above.
- Using Delta’s 777 coach seat layout as an example.
I was the “leanee” in this scenario, but the leaner was huge and drunk and belligerent, so I was wondering how to extricate myself without starting a fight. Luckily, I caught the bartender’s eye, he got the server and they both came over… and asked the entire group to go back to their table or leave.
They left soon after that, and as soon as the door slammed, the bartender was at our table with complementary tequila shots. He thanked us for not making a scene.
Nonetheless, as Natural Disasters go, (this is far, far above “Household Accidents”) it is quite impressive.
Microwaves do not produce flames or sparks. :dubious:
My Beloved Butthead was supposed to fly in tonight. I drove to the airport to pick him up, which is never a fun time (traffic, not having him home), parked and went into the terminal just in time to get a text telling me that he was delayed another 3 days due to tree huggers chaining themselves to the equipment. Nobody was hurt, equipment was undamaged, he has to stay to be sure that charges are pressed.
While I was pretty grumpy that we wouldn’t be having happy fun times tonight, I was very entertained by the pics he sent. The tree huggers were sure to bring nice comfy air mattresses (made out of oil) when they each drove their 4-wheel vehicles over 40 miles of bad road so they would be comfortable while waiting for the police to arrive.
Usually, they don’t. As it was explained by yet another “expert” later, ours was damaged during the aforementioned ground shifting and did produce a spark when something happened shortly after I turned it on. I really don’t know what happened, all I know is that it totally wasn’t my fault, I was just an innocent bystander.
(I only accept blame for 1 kitchen fire and that wasn’t really my fault either. I really did think that kitchen curtains were made of fire retardant stuff, so opening the kitchen window and allowing them to blow over an open flame shouldn’t have been nearly as big of a problem as it was.)