Saturday, June 5, 2010

Eff You, Saturday Morning.

So last night I was thinking about what I wanted to do today.  What with the whole "job" thing getting in the way all over the place I suddenly put a huge amount of stock into my weekends.  This is usually bad because my body (the bastard) seems to think the weekend is the best time to get sick/have a major allergy episode/give me a migraine.  (Hey, Body!  I have sick days you know!  Not all five because I didn't start till February, but I still have some!)  So here's more of less what I was thinking (you'll notice this isn't terribly exciting and even includes some responsible actions.  Ridiculous, I know.)

Wake up Saturday morning, go grab some fancy coffee, take a book/computer out on the patio and read in the sunshine for awhile.  Watch some trashy TV.  Make some tasty food to take as lunches next week (because the Health Choice Mixer you had yesterday was disgusting.  Sorry, Healthy Choice.  A lot of your mixers are tasty, tasty lunches.  Just not the one I had yesterday.  That was more like punishment.)  Work on the baby blanket I'm knitting for some friends of ours (who are having a baby).  Do some laundry.  Make some dinner.  Maybe play some games or watch a movie with Steve.

See - the boy (i.e. Steve) has to work today (major booness) which means the apartment is all mine for a good portion of the day (major yeyness). Now I love Steve very much and he's wonderful and all.  But every so often I do love being able to watch America's Next Top Model without comment.  Generally speaking he doesn't care what I watch (especially if he's playing video games, which he always is) but there usually is some point where the dreaded "What are you watching?" is uttered.  (Terrible word, uttered.)  I think he usually asks me this because he's under the (woefully misguided) impression that I'm an intelligent, interesting person with good taste.  Seriously I don't know where he came up with this idea.  I've been vain, shallow, stubborn and bratty since the day we met.  He likes me anyway, God bless him.  So I think when things like ANTM are on he starts to wonder if maybe I just lost the remote.  Because I like shows like Rome and How I Met Your Mother and Dexter and Battlestar Galactica and, you know, stuff that's... good.  So I can't be serious with this Tyra Banks stuff right?

Well that's the catch.  I can't help it, I'm addicted to bad TV.  But it's like if I just watch some every now and then (like a half day marathon of something) it's like I get my fix and go back to being intelligent (and by that I mean fairly pretentious) for a few weeks.

But I'm not about to share that theory with him.

Of course he's one of my two readers (and that second one might have been a fluke, I don't know) so he'll probably figure it out pretty soon.  Damn.

Anyway getting back to the original point, here's how my morning actually went:
Woke up.  Was delighted to find that my body had actually allowed me to sleep in until 9.  This has not happened for several months.  Yey, body!  Check my email on my phone, see email from male friend with subject line "Soon To Be Father."  Have small heart attack.  Open email.  Father will not be him.  Am relieved.  Chastise male friend for scaring me first thing in the morning.  Get up and dressed and whatnot, about to leave to get fancy coffee when I check the weather.  It's raining.  No patio reading for me then.  Decide to get fancy coffee anyway, I will read inside when I get back.  Get back, fancy coffee in tow, and turn on TV.  Cable is out.  That's very weird.  Open laptop.  Internet is down.  Also weird.  Reset the modem.  That doesn't work.  Start to worry.  Go check TV and internet in bedroom because my laptop can be very persnickety (awesome word) about working sometimes and the living room TV... usually doesn't give us problems but you never know.  Cable and internet are not working in bedroom either.  Text boyfriend:
Me:  This is probably going to sound foolish but we did pay the comcast bill, right?
Steve: Pretty sure... can check the old joint account to see when the last payment was made.

(Think to myself - no I can't because old bank doesn't have app for phone and the internet is down.  Think to myself further: really do like new bank and especially that they have an app for my phone.)
Me: Well no I can't - the internet isn't working.

We discuss the situation some more.  He checks something on his phone (app I don't know about?) and says it shows that he did, in fact, make the payment.  Come to the conclusion that I should call Comcast.

So here I am.

Our apartment complex includes a "Library."  It's not a bad set up really.  Free books if you're interested in the variety here.  (Looking around three popped out at me, all biographies but not near one another at all: Nancy Reagan, Shirley Temple and Prince Charles.  Oh! Billy Graham too.  Suffice to say these are not books I'm interested in.  Now I do see that they have a copy of Kirby Puckett's I Love This Game, so the "library" is slightly redeemed.)  It smells kind of funny in here (not like mildew or normal smell of books, just a little funny.)  The fluorescent lights are pretty loud and I'm right next door to the office and apparently there are a lot of people calling them today.  But there's free wifi so I certainly can't complain too much.  I've been here for just under an hour; reading a bit and writing this post.

I'm attempting to get myself into a zen enough state that I feel I can deal with Comcast.  (I'm actually hoping I'll get back to my apartment and the problem will have fixed itself.)  I am notorious for HATING being on the phone and particularly being on the phone with random customer service lines.  They make me feel inadequate because the whole reason I need to call them is because I don't know what's going on.  Yet they still feel the need to talk to me like I'm a moron for not knowing how my cable actually works.  I know I plug it in and turn it on.  I'm not a cable guy(lady), I shouldn't need to know how my cable actually works.  (In fairness, the customer service people probably don't actually talk to me like a moron, I just feel like they do because I go into the situation feeling inadequate and therefore read too much into their tone.)

So yeah.... Dear Saturday Morning, you effing suck.  What the hell?  Let me tell you, you better improve your attitude by next week or we're going to have a serious problem.

UPDATE:  Holy shit!!!! The problem fixed itself!  I was just kidding, I didn't actually expect the situation to be any different when I got back!  Okay actually the situation wasn't any different when I got back - the modem was still doing the same thing.  I went to the bathroom and when I came back from that?  BAM!  Cable and Internet are back!  I think Saturday morning read my post and realized it was dropping the ball.  Woo!

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