CB Radio

This whole moving thing is starting to get to me. I've moved a million times, and I've pretty much gotten it down to an art form. I have boxes that I've repacked so many times, I'm starting to question the wisdom of reusing them again...even if they are that product's original box. The problem is that I am accustomed to local moves. Dad comes up in his Chevy Astro van, I drive my pick-up and in two trips, I am moved. Not so much when you're moving 2000 miles. Two trips becomes a little less feasible.

So, I've rented a Penske truck to drive up to Boston. I probably only need a 12' truck for my stuff (I try not to accumulate too much crap, and what I have accumulated I just cleaned out last week) but I've decided to tow my pickup truck behind the moving truck. Which means that I have to rent a 16' truck because that is what you need to pull something behind you I guess. Meaning that I'll be driving a 16' truck, that is towing another 12' behind it? I'm not that great at distances, but I'd say before it's said and done I'm driving a 30' convoy through the country. Which I had kind of resigned myself to. It'll be fine, it's all interstate, it's all good.

Then yesterday my moving truck packet came in the mail. It included unfathomable instructions for attaching the trailer to the truck, a DVD that shows you how to attach the trailer to the truck (apparently I'm not the only one who didn't understand anything in the brochure), and some rules of the road for driving a freaking semi. One of those rules? Stopping at weigh stations. Huh?? I don't know what to do at a weigh station. And it's not like I'm driving one of the *giant* moving trucks. It's a small one. And it won't even be full since I really don't have that much stuff. So I called the truck place and asked them how serious they were about that part of the booklet. Answer? Pretty damn serious.

"Well, since 9/11 the contents of trucks has been under pretty strict observation. You'll pull into the weigh station, they'll see you're a household move, and 9 times out of 10, they'll just wave you through. You could just drive past the weigh station, but if you do that and get caught there's a pretty heavy fine."

Awesome. So, I'm going to be one step away from a bona fide trucker in about 30 days. Which just leaves me with one question. Where can I score a CB radio?

Letters

It's been a while and I don't really have much going on, so I thought I'd catch up on my correspondence. Here we go.
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Dear USAA,
I am planning a cross-country move to a state with regulations out the wazoo. I called you to check on how my car insurance will be affected. You transferred me to the nicest person on the planet, who seemed to be more excited about my move than I was. Does she get a cut of my premiums or something? Because she can have some. She was awesome. I got a quote, I got my insurance changed over effective the date of my move, I got the forms I'll need to register my car, and I even got my renter's insurance switched over. I will not have to make any calls when I get there. Done. And that is fabulous.

According to your website, you've been "Ranked #1 in Customer Service." I think this is the first time I've read something like that and actually believed it. If your office was not in Texas, I would bake you cookies. Such is my love.

Seriously. Love.
Samantha
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Dear Apartment,
I know we've had our ups and downs, and today is no different. Only a month ago I was dreading the loss of you. Your spacious floorplan, your double sinks, your walk-in-for-days closet, and God bless you your 1.5 baths. But then I found new apartment. And I fell in love with it. Not just love. Loooooove. Because it is beautiful. And because hopefully at my new apartment I will not come home to notes stuck in my doorjamb reading:

Dear Resident:

A crime has been perpetrated in our complex. It is our understanding that those responsible have not been identified or apprehended. If you see a crime being committed, please call the police. And then please call our complex office and leave a message. You are responsible for your own safety, and local law enforcement is responsible for aiding in that safety.

Thank you,

Your crappy new management team

First of all, thank you for letting me know that something has happened. It is comforting to know that a mystery crime has been perpetrated and that we have no idea who did it. Phew. What a load off my mind. Seriously, WTF? Was somebody murdered (again)?? Was someone robbed at gunpoint? Is someone having oral sex? (Illegal in Alabama.) Is someone placing squirrels down their pants for the purpose of gambling?? I NEED DETAILS! I leave this complex at all hours of the night. If there's a friendly neighborhood carjacker waiting for me at the gate, I might like to know. Also, is it just me, or does it sound like we're being accused of the crime? I feel as though the letter is less "be safe" and more "admit what you've done, you thugs."

Regardless, you are not making me happy right now. Also, the water constantly being broken is starting to get on my nerves. The whole "they're fixing a leak right now, you're water will be back in two hours" excuse is wearing thin. Pipes shouldn't pop new leaks every two weeks. Also, 2 hours is 120 minutes. Not 3 days. If the pipes have disintegrated, it might be time for new ones. Just a suggestion. Although perhaps you might first catch the squirrel pants gambler. Gotta have priorities.

Sincerely,

Sam

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Dear New Girls at Work,

Thank God we hired you. You're both nurses, you're both intelligent, and you both have made me laugh so much my face hurts. I'm so glad we've finally found some people that may actually be able to do this job without killing anyone or giving the other coordinators ulcers. Already you've picked up more than the last idiot we hired who's been with us six months. You're already asking for your nicknames since we've given everyone in the office unfortunate alter egos. You're hoping you don't end up with a name like the last girl, unfortunately nicknamed "The Big Hurt" because that's what it feels like when you have to work with her all night. Or talk to her for any length of time whatsoever.

Also, a special thank you to the new girl who has already passed out in the OR. Way to pull the heat off of me. At least I was under the influence of chemicals. You just passed slam out on the floor for no reason. Also, way to recover and suck it up. You stuck it out even though you probably suffered a concussion and two days later your ankle still isn't looking that hot. I will say that you are lucky in that the surgeons didn't notice your floor dive. Waking up to your friend the other trainee coordinator and a nurse or two beats the pants off of waking up to a roomful of surgeons. Now we can tease you about your glucose tablets and suing us for workman's comp. It's good times.

Finally, when I leave I get to pawn off my horrible office duty on someone. I promise not to do that to either of you. I like you way too much for that. Although I will use it as a bargaining chip every day until I leave to get you to do my bidding. Eventually you will know me better though and realize the only option I ever even considered. Of course I'm giving this crap to The Big Hurt.

Thanks for being awesome,

Sam

Tired

I'm off work today and decided to be as productive as possible. Clean the apartment, take things to Goodwill, figure out what moving truck to rent, and even get new tires put on the truck I plan to drag to Massachusetts like a crippled dog. The last time my truck got new tires was when my parents gave me a set as a high school graduation gift. Which means that I've been on this set of tires since I was 16 years old. That's a good 7 years. Not to say they're all the same. I'm sure they've all been replaced or patched at one time or another. But I decided that since two of those tires are going to be dragged a good 2000 miles, maybe it's time for a new set. I can't imagine changing a flat while the truck is hooked up to a UHaul being fun. At all.

When my parents bought my tires, they got them from WalMart (shocking) and they got them with a lifetime warranty. Meaning that anything other than wear or tear means that I get a free new tire or a free tire patching. Whichever is cheaper for Walmart. Which is the primary reason I haven't had to buy new tires in 7 years (although some tell me that is incredibly debatable and they've been worried about my truck actually just being a glorified sled for a while now.) So it's time to buy new tires and I'm torn. The WalMart tire deal has been awesome. And Massachusetts has Walmarts. On the other hand, WalMart is a huge evil corporation that doesn't pay its workers, give them good benefits, or allow them to unionize if they so desire. They're pretty much a huge part of what is wrong with America. So I hesitate to give them money. But they're so cheap and I am so poor. It's a tough call.

So I caved. And I drove to WalMart. And I sat in my car in the receiving line for literally 30 minutes. Before they figured out that they did not have 4 tires that would hold my truck up. Really? A WalMart in Alabama doesn't have 4 truck tires?? Seriously?? It's all we drive! So, I think it's a sign and I should probably buy tires elsewhere. From...I don't know....a company not owned by Satan. Suggestions welcome :)

I've Got People Skills!!

So I don't really have anything to blog about...but I don't want my blog to circle into oblivion like so many dead goldfish. So, here's the insignificant stuff that's going on :)

• I get to attend "People Skills Training" next month! Woo! Rumor has it that this is in direct response to one of our coordinators going bat-shit crazy at an emergency room when his ex-girlfriend had her CAT scan read by a veterinarian rather than a physician. First of all, don't get your knickers in a twist. Maybe they thought they'd actually scanned a cat. Or maybe this vet was an MD as well. No matter what, I would assume the hospital contracts this service with him because he knows what he's doing. I do not believe this to be a valid excuse for throwing chairs in the waiting room or pinning an ER physician to a wall. Also, I don't understand why the rest of us have to be punished with a four-hour training session on professionalism. Especially since he wasn't even at work when it happened. The official stance was that we are in a job where we represent our organization 24-7, whether we're working or not, no matter where we are. Which is ridiculous, but whatever. I just hope no one finds the publicly posted picture of my co-worker and I dancing drunk on top of a bar. I'm pretty sure that kind of thing isn't included in the mission statement. :-p
• My laptop caught a virus. I had our IT guy at work fix it. Of course, my definition of "fix it" is to remove the virus. His version is to remove everything, reinstall only things work-related, and then refuse to reinstall anything I might need to have fun on this laptop. No Flash...I can't even see the little clock in my blog's sidebar. No YouTube videos. I might crumple up and die soon.
• S and I went to C's house last night and watched "Happy Feet." If you haven't seen it, you should. It's adorable. And it has a nice environmental message too. Of course, it'll make you want to shoot yourself for having ever eaten a fish and stolen from the mouths of penguins. But then you think about sushi and glory in the fact thatyou're higher up in the food chain. Because sushi is the best.
• While at C's house last night, we made a DiGiorno Four-Cheese pizza. Pulled it out of the oven, and we can't find her pizza cutter. No problem, just give me a knife and a cutting board. She hands me a serrated steak knife and points to the rack the pizza's sitting on. "I can't cut it with this, on that!" "Ugh. I don't want to pull out a cutting board. Can't we just use scissors?" "Huh?" "I think it'll work." C cut the pizza into slices with a pair of scissors. It totally worked. Apparently laziness is the mother of invention.

Today I have to clean my apartment. We'll see if that happens. :-p

What's the Buzz?

For the past few days I've been holed up in my apartment, laying on the couch in my pajamas, watching movies and television. Drinking orange juice by the gallon and turning occasionally to redistribute the snot swirling around in my sinuses. Because nothing cures a cold like lying in front of the television snuggled up with a giant teddy bear, drinking orange juice, and watching "The Little Mermaid" like you were 4 years old all over again. (Actually, something might cure a cold better because I'm still totally stuffed up and miserable, but I don't know what it is so I'll go with what I have. I'm definitely up for suggestions though.)

So, all this time I'm sitting in here, I'm hearing this whining/buzzing noise. It's coming from outside, and it's kind of high pitched, but it isn't constant. The tone goes up and down. I assumed someone was doing construction. Maybe they had circular saws set up in the parking lot? Or maybe the crazy mechanic neighbor with the attack dog had gotten some tools and was pretending to be a member of Jeff Gordon's pit crew? I didn't know where it was coming from, but it wasn't close enough to make me think someone was trying to tunnel into my apartment (another of my ideas) so I decided not to worry about it. The weather outside today was sunny and gorgeous (hit 75 degrees) and I assumed people were outside and if someone were assembling some kind of nuclear warhead in the parking lot, surely one of my elderly neighbors would call the police. I was also a little worried that the buzzing noise was in my head because of my cold. Or that it was killer bees. Always a big concern.

So this evening I'm sitting here watching SVU. And the noise begins again. And it's really loud, and it's getting dark. It continues and I think, "Surely there's some clause in the lease that says you can't operate electric lathes in the parking lot after dark." I finally shoehorn myself off the couch to figure out what the hell has been going on for the past week. Are you ready for this? Drumroll please...

It's an RC car. Some kid got a little RC car and is *racing* it up and down the parking lot pretty much from the time he gets home from school to the time his mother calls him in for dinner.

I worry that I'm going to end up one of those old people shaking my cane and yelling for those kids to stay off my lawn. Seriously. I'm bothered by the noise from an RC car. What am I going to do when I move back into a city? It's gonna be interesting.

Frustrated

• I woke up feeling sick this morning. Again. I'm pretty sure that my workplace is a breeding ground for sinus infections, influenza, strep throat, and bubonic plague. I have once again contracted at least one of these. Just in time to be on call all weekend. So, since today's my day off, I decided to go to the store and stock up on supplies. News flash: Simply Orange is God's gift to orange juice. That stuff is delicious.
• To get home from the store, I have to enter the gates of my apartment community. That's right...I live in a gated community. I'm pretty sure the gates are there to keep all the thugs inside the complex. But whatever. There's someone in front of me blocking the gates. And I can see him digging around in his car. He's paying absolutely no attention to anything except his desperate search for what I can only assume to be a sandwich or some kind of herpes ointment. What else could be that pressing? In any event, after patiently waiting five minutes, I decided to alert him to my presence with my car horn. I press the horn. Nothing happens. I LAY on the horn. Nothing happens. Welcome to stage 431 of my poor truck falling apart. At this rate I'll have to buy a new car before the year's out. Because I have a mighty need for a working horn.
• The guy finally pulls through the gate. I make it home. Walk in the door with the intention of drinking orange juice, taking tylenol sinus, and eating some lunch. I pull out the hummus mix and start chopping up pita and celery. Get the measuring cup, turn on the faucet, and nothing happens. Because the water in my building is turned off. Or has dried up. Either way, I was given no notice of the impending drought and now can not make hummus. Stupid apartment complex.

I'll also probably lose my basketball bracket. Which sucks, because wagers were placed in cake.

And I love cake.