Saturday, June 20, 2009

Dem bones

If you’re looking for a return on your investment you might consider buying stocks in manufacturers of ibuprofen. I’ve been popping it like Pez ever since I moved into this three-story house from the single-story Rambler.

My right knee makes a crunching sound, like stepping on a bag of bran, whenever I go up stairs, which I do rather a lot—moving things from one floor to another. I saw some young woman out running today, with support bandages wrapped around her knees and I thought, “Hey, I want some of those!”

I’m hoping this is temporary—that it’ll wear off as I get used to being in multiple floors. When I moved to the UK and started driving a car with the floor shift on the left, my left shoulder got sore for a while with the unexpected workout. And when I returned here I had the same thing happen with my right shoulder until I got used to shifting with that arm. So I hope this is a similar situation.

But just in case, you should keep that ibuprofen shares thing in mind.

Friday, June 19, 2009

She's baaaack

Since one of my three readers has commented on the lack of posts, let me just say that I’ve been in hell. While I’m not entirely sure I’m out, at least I’m now at least crawling up the circles.

You see, I’ve been moving house. And for more than two weeks la Bas Bleu is just beat.

You may recall my last attempt to become a landholder in the Emerald City. It did not end well.

So every step of the way on this round I waited for various shoes to drop. And drop they did. The loan processor turned out to be working on her first actual, you know, loan to be processed with me. So I didn’t make the closing/signing date and had to sign papers the next day and then pick up the keys the next day.

There was a deal where the builder gave you money to put towards things like appliances and window treatments. I had to submit invoices for the items in question and the escrow company managed to overpay the appliance people.

Sears, the appliance people, could not manage to deliver the right refrigerator. I gave them three tries before finally going to a local store. The last straw was getting a call at 0700 last Saturday from someone in the delivery department to tell me, “Your refrigerator has a dent in it. Do you still want it?”

I’ve been in this place since 5 June.

(But what I loved was, after calling the store and trying to get it sorted, I finally got a call from someone named Charles in the “Customer Solutions” department. His solution? “You could go to the store and pick out something different, or you can wait until July 22 for us to deliver one.” Not my idea of a solution.)

I finally got my refrigerator Thursday. Now I’m trying to get the double charges for the appliances back from Sears. Any bets on how smoothly this process will go?

The only thing that went according to plan was the actual move. They showed up on time, loaded the trucks, unloaded and set stuff up here and were gone by 1400.

So I’ve been unpacking cartons for the past couple of weeks. Some of my things (including well over half my books) I haven’t seen for more than a year. I am finding damage done by the “professional” packer back in Virginia to my books, which I’ll bring to the attention of the adjustor. I couldn’t believe how many ways there are to ruin a book. Thank God I packed 40 cartons of them myself.

Now, of course, I have the fight with Seattle City Light, which despite its name is supposed to provide electricity, water, sewer and trash collection. I can’t tell you how many twilight zone conversations I’ve had with their representatives trying to get them to just set up a bloody account for me. The one this morning couldn’t tell me anything about the trash or when I might expect to receive bins (since nobody out here will pick up anything that’s not in an official bin). And when I asked her what I was supposed to be doing with my trash in the meantime, there was silence and then, “well, hold on to it.”

Next thing you know I’ll be hauled in for attracting rats and being a plague carrier.

Well, whatever. I’m in my brand new house. My cat will eventually come out from under the bed where she's been ever since the movers left. Whether or not I’m paying for water, I’m getting it. And the fridge has two bottles of bubbly in it.

My usual posts should resume shortly.