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The move was a success!  I never want to do that again.  It's been 25 years since the last one, and if I have to do it in another 25, it will be too soon!

Nothing got broken and even the piano made the trip unscathed.  My sister, Daughter-Type and her boyfriend helped unpack everything and set up the computer again.  No internet until yesterday, though.  But I was busy enough over the weekend that I really didn't miss it much.  And I have Verizon now instead of Comcast.  With a DVR!!  All this new newfangled technology is blowing my mind.  I have no clue what I need to start recording though.  Everything I watch is either streaming in some way or with dvds.  It's all so very exciting.

It feels strange not dealing with stairs every few hours, but nice.  I can always climb the three flights to get up to my new place instead of using the elevator if I'm feeling nostalgic.  I think I'm the youngest person in the building.  It's a 55 and over place and I won't be 55 until the 18th.  Still, they have a bunch of groups that get together in the evening, one of which knits and crochets.  Next week I think I'll join them.  The drive wasn't too bad this morning.  I leave early enough so I miss all the awful morning rush, and I'm thinking the same will be true for the return trip.

So a major event and everyone has survived with all pieces intact!  A glorious day indeed.

So, I keep getting these telemarketer calls supposedly wanting to do a survey on leisure time. 

Right. 

Last night's caller's voice was deep and dark and so smooothe that I found myself talking to him before I realized I really didn't want to.

Him:  Want to take a survey on how you spend your leisure time?
Me:  Sure, but I have to tell you up front, I'm a single woman over the age of 50 who lives alone.
Him:  That's cool.  Everybody's opinion counts.
Me:  Ok, let's do it.

We run through the obvious questions/answers, no there aren't any people in the house working for an ad company or under the age of six.  Yadda yadda.  Then we get to the kicker.

Him:  What is your age.
Me:  I'm 54

Cue crickets...

Him:  Well, thanks anyway, but we've filled our quota for people in that category.

I laughed.  WTF anyway!  Nothing like being reduced to a quota to make a gal's night.

Or, at least that's how I feel.  Both dogs and both computers have viruses.  The desktop is taking a wee trip with one of Daughter-Type's friends who does computer stuff for a living, but is currently out of work.  He works for WoW game time cards, which works for me.  The laptop will probably go next but I'm not really certain it has an issue, or if it's just me being me.

I dog sat for Daughter-Type this week.  Bounder had a stomache virus which he promptly passed along to Ebony.  He's fine now and back home with Daughter-Type, but Ebony is sick as a, you guessed it, dog.  She had me up every three hours last night taking her out.  I felt like I had a new-born again, ugh.  I was up at 5am making "easy on doggie tummies" dog food.  Browned ground beef and rice, which she yakked up all over the place.  So much for that theory.

And on the work front, preperation for THE AUDIT has begun.  I don't remember there being any bloodshed last year, but I'm not ruleing it out for this year.  It's been a long time since we've had a good decapitation around here!

Or maybe just whine.  Actually, let's go with whine, since I feel rather tired and peeved and just generally whiny.


There's the usual HATE MY JOB whine I could indulge in, but here are a few specifics.  Staying in whine mode of course.  Our receptionist, who is new and fairly nice so I really shouldn't be too hard on her, is annoying when she announces calls.  The PA system makes two beeping sounds before you can actually talk and she never waits for the second beep.  So all of her announcements are cut in half and we have to call her and ask who that last call was for.  I mean, nobody had to tell ME to wait for the second beep!  Whine, whine.

New Boss is still an ass.  Actually, he's a well paid, baby-boomer male in a cushy job and he has a slave (ME!) to do all the un-glamorous tasks.  This year he is apparently the one seaching for new healthcare insurance and I have nothing to do with the process except face the unhappy employees when they have questions.  And of course he's wedging his buddy-buddy insurance broker in and my trusted and longtime guy is out.  Bastard!  I know, dangerously close to a rant here.

My A/R clerk (at least I thing she's still mine, New Boss might have sole her too) will be on vacation tomorrow.  This means all the whiny, pushy sales people will be lining up at my door tomorrow begging to let their deadbeat customers buy just one more thing.  They'll pay on Monday, I swear.  Yeah right.

My dog decided to not wait for the treat I give her when I come home for lunch just to see her friendly face and have a nice petting session and ate a blue pen.  Right in the middle of my living room rug.  Waa waa.

I don't want to go to class tonight, see first line, even though we'll be getting our second test scores back tonight.  I did ok, so I'm not really worried.  I just want to go home and wallow in my whiny-ness.

( Cut for WoW whine )

Ok, now I have to get ready to talk to the ADP guy about how much they screwed up our timeclock and payroll system.  For anyone thinking of going with ADP, don't!  They are the most disorganized group I've ever had the misfortune of working with.  I could do a whole rant/whine just on how they screwed up our local taxes.  But, I'll save that for another post.

A co-worker took a few days off last week to go kayaking in Arkansas.  It reminded me of a long forgotten canoe trip I went on when I was 19.  Yes, yes, way back that long ago.

This trip was ill fated from the git-go.  My father was "forbidding" me to go because there were boys going even though I was 19 and was only two months away from leaving for Army basic training (delayed enlistment was a great thing), where there were lots of boys.  I was going with my boy friend, B, and that was a BAD thing because it was an overnight trip.  Yes, he's always been an old fashioned kind of guy, my father. 

Anyway, I met B at Farrell's, which was a chain ice-cream parlor/restaurant.  It's theme was 1900's and we had an old player piano that would pump out ragtime tunes while we were open.  One night I came in for my shift and this guy had the piano unlocked and was playing all those songs and more from memory.  He was amazing!  In addition to being tall, blond (which I usually don't go for) and very good looking, he could play any instrument he picked up.  Anyway, we started dating and in late August the canoe trip happened.

Another omen that this trip should not have happened was our fender bender on the Surekill Schuykill Expressway.  Fortunately, no one was hurt we hit the car in front of us when it stopped short and none of the canoes we were towing were damaged.  Our driver did the exchange of insurance shuffle with the other driver and off we went.

Now, if I had been paying attention back then I would remember the name of the river in New Jersey where our little weekend of relaxing canoeing took place.  I might have even taken the time and looked it up.  Its possible I would have discovered that this "river" we were supposed to float our damn boats in wasn't even six inches deep at the starting point and we had to carry the damn canoes for what seemed like miles until we could get them in the water!  But, B had been a boy scout, and was Candian and surely that doubly qualified him to get me through the weeked unharmed.

Once we were able to let the boats carry us for a change things started to get tough.  The "river" wound its way with sharp S curves which would cause us to ground the canoe if we coudn't steer the thing accurately.  There were tree branches that hung out over the water and if we weren't paying attention could skewer us or at the very least result in a face full of leaves and tree stuff.  There were rocks.  And, my favorite, wee little waterfalls that probably only dropped down a foot or so, but looked like the Niagra Falls from my point of view.

Then it started to get dark.  The trip leader swore there was a place to camp just around the next bend.  It had soft sand that had been brought in and there were grills where we could have our cook out and BATHROOMS!!!  But each next bend came and went and no camp appeared.  So we stopped at the next relatively clear spot before it got too dark to see.  Just imagine, late August in New Jersey after a day of carrying a canoe then fending off wayward tree brances and boulders.  Being sweaty, dirty, tired and just wanting a nice cool shower at the end of the day.  Then imagine having to crawl inside a sleeping bag that it was too hot for or risk being eaten alive by bugs and that's how the "night" portion of the overnight canoe trip turned out.  Nothing for my father to have worried about.  The next day, we paddled for about 15 minuets and passed the camp. 

At this point, the "river" was wider, deeper and had fewer sharp curves to navigate around.  We were doing more paddling and fewer evasive maneuvers to avoid obstacles.  A few hours later we went through a wetlands area with tall pussy willows and other such plants.  It was very pretty.  I noticed that the plants were really swaying in the breeze, but I hadn't noticed much of one up to that point.  Then we empied out into a small lake.  There were two docks, one at the midway point, and the other at the far end.  And as luck would have it, our pick up was the furthest away.  So we started to paddle.  Out in the open like that, the breeze was much more noticible.  So we paddled a little harder.  The breeze became wind and little waves developed on the lake.  We started paddling for all we were worth. 

As we passed the first dock two of the canoes in front of us dropped out.  But B and I had been through alot on this canoe trip and there was no way in hell we were not finishing.  The wind was blowing us backwards it seemed and we had to time our paddling to keep that from happening.  The canoe in back of us dropped out as well.  We paddled so hard that at one point I thought I was having a heart attack but we could see people on the dock now and our ride to get us out of this hell hole.  Fighting the headwind every in of the way we finally made it to dry land.  I'd never been happier than to get rid of the canoe, believe me.  Unfortunately, I think it signaled the end of my relationship with B.  But I was leaving home in a few months and he was going back to school and we all know how those relationships end.

Even though there was lots to bitch about that day, I remember it fondly.  Its funny how time can have that effect.

I'm eating chocolate.  Reese's in fact.  I know it will cause me pain, yet I'm eating them anyway.  I need a real, live vacation.  I want to go somewhere where I can sit in the shade with a book or my knitting and just take a nap if I want.  I want room service and somebody to make my bed for me.  I don't want to hear a ringing phone or look at anyone who appears they might have anything to do with the accounting profession.  Four o'clock can't come fast enough.

So, at 12:30 A-freakin'-M this morning some loud, thumping noise woke me up.  For some reason the dog wasn't upset which lead me to believe it was my mids worker daughter having a night off.  The thumping continued which got me somewhat aggravated since it was the middle of the night for me, and not my afternoon.  I got up and in my best Mom is annoyed at being awakened voice, called out to her from the top of the stairs to see what the frack she was doing.  No answer.  So I yelled louder.  Again no answer, but the thumping stopped.  Once more with feeling and there was that kind of silence you can actually feel, but no daughter shouting back "WHAT'.

*begin background info*

Daughter-type had recently broken up with a real shady character boyfriend.  They had actually moved out together this fall (see September posting featuring much empty nest mother whining) which resulted in my daughter having several things stolen and sold off by scuzzy house-mate friends of said shady boyfriend.  She moved back home after a rather violent episode involving the police.  For some reason her bed never made it back to the house and was stored at shady boyfriend's mother's house.  Last evening said bed was dumped on my driveway in the middle of a puddle of muddy snow melt.

*end background info*

This all flashed through my mind as my heart started pounding and I envisioned my computer and dvd collection being carted from the house by hoodlums.  All I could think of was, CALL 911!!  Now, I've seen enough creepy shows/movies to know that even armed with the baton stuffed in the back of my closet I was toast if I went downstairs to see what was going on.  So I locked my bedroom door and slammed it shut, called 911 and told the nice lady on the phone that I thought someone was in my house.  We talked about lights on timers, what cars should be in the driveway and whether there were any tripping hazards in my yard while she summoned help.

After determining that I was sincere, 911 Lady stated that two officers had just been dispatched and would be there soon.  Knowing that they were most likely at the WaWa that is less than half a mile from the house getting their free coffee, I knew it would only be a few seconds.  About this time I heard the front door open and my daughter shout MOM!  Cue big, bouncer type cops at the front door, both of whom daughter-type knows because she works at the WaWa in the middle of the night when the cops come in for their free coffee and gossip break.

*more background info*

Daughter-type only wears black.  Jeans, tee and sweat shirts, socks, hats everything.  She listens to King Diamond and screechy sorts like that, no slur intended.  In short, she is not a girly-girl at all.

*end more background info*

All the cops that come into that WaWa have nicknames.  We have supercop, who when he pulls over drunk/high kids likes to take them a few miles from their car and drop them off so they have to walk back.  And then there is bouncer cop who she says looks like a wall in uniform.  Short version, he's the one who came to the door while she was in her candy cane fleece jammies and pink fluffy robe.  Oh yeah, black ski cap with white skull and cross bones, too.  She's such a fashion plate.

See this is why I don't write fanfic.  I can't tell a story to save my life.

Anyway, it turns out that the other dog, who I don't get along with in any sort of way, had decided to get into the kitchen trash when daughter-type went out for a ciggy.  Thumping noises explained.  Guilty silence explained since he knew he was in deep doo doo for knocking over the trash.  And daughter, who has been told NOT to leave him on his own unattended because he can't be trusted, was nicely embarrassed being seen in her lounge wear.  So, no harm, no foul and only cold cop coffee as a result.  Unless you want to include heart pounding fear and spaghetti with muscles ground into the carpet where the dog had dragged it.  And of course, daughter-type having to endure cop harassment when she gets back to work tonight over he pink fluffy robe.

It was 2:30 before I got back to sleep.  Ugh.