I've held it together remarkably well this week on my diet of lack of sleep, funerals, work and ER visits. I attended a swanky Guild reception this evening, I was a little bleary eyed, but pasted on a smile and kept moving.
I got home at 10:00 pm and realized that I had a full 9.5 hours before I had to leave again. The left time for 8 hours sleep and an 1.5 hours for an actual shower, starting laundry, looking at mail and checking messages.
I working on getting rid of my land-line telephone. I sent out notes in February letting people know I'd be using my cell phone exclusively after May 1. I have not given out the number for months. It was a hard decision, I've had that number for a dozen years and I'm pretty old school about those things. But the reality is that I hardly ever use the phone and often the phone is off the charger and out of juice- not doing me much good and costing $40 a month, the cost of DSL. And I'm not much comfortable talking on the phone. I'd much rather write notes.
Anyway, I hadn't checked the phone for a couple of days. I had one message, from Apple. They needed more information to complete my transaction. WTF! They called on Tuesday, the day I'd placed the order. And I know that I gave them my cell phone number.
I called them back and they said my address did not match my credit card billing address. We reviewed my street address, check. When we got to the city, I said "Indianapolis." She replied "You don't live in Fairground, Indiana?" Um, no. I live near the fairgrounds. I'd ordered the computer over the phone. When the person asked where I lived I had to spell Indianapolis for her. I-N-D-I-A-N-A-P-O-L-I-S. Indiana with a polis. Then she asked if it was in Indiana. Um, yes.
I have no idea where Fairground came from. I do love the State Fair and would mind living on the fair grounds. Other kids wanted to live in the candy store, not me. I wanted to live in the Home and Family Arts building.
Once it was all straightened out, she said my computer would ship on Monday (before it was scheduled to be delivered today). I was trying not to be mad at her, my logical side reminded me that she was not the one who made the mistake. The crabby side of me wanted to reach through the phone and choke her.
When she asked if she could do anything else to help, I ranted "can you help me with my column that is due, um today? Or my 5000 word cover story that is due on Thursday and I planned on working on all weekend?"
I wondered when I was going to have a good cry. I sobbed right through my laundry, mail and one hour of the sleeping time.