I'm Going to Curse Now (You've Been Warned)

I love my house. I love absolutely everything about my house, except three things.

One, I don’t have a three-car garage. Two, I would really like four bedrooms. And three, well, number three is a game changer.

I’m not trying to complain or sound ungrateful; because like I said, I have a pretty awesome house and I’m really very blessed to have it. But, so okay, Nate has an old dune buggy he’d really like to be fixing up--hence the need for the three car garage; and most of my family lives out-of-state so it sure would be nice to have a guest bedroom for them to stay in--hence the need for the fourth bedroom. And I’m really saying all of this because I know I said I was never moving, but you know, can I really live without those things?

The answer is yes, I could. EXCEPT for the third thing. If it wasn’t for the third thing, I’d probably get over it. And the third thing is the farm that is situated about a quarter mile from my house.

THAT FARM is like finding out a month after moving into your new house that you actually live right on railroad track, but you couldn’t see it when you decided you loved the house. Because THAT FARM has this grain fan, or dryer, or something of the like that I’m about to go over and destroy with a sledgehammer if it ruins one more goodnight’s sleep. (I’m kidding. I’m far too pussy to actually try such a thing. But I do dream about how good it would feel.)

The first night we noticed the noise, it was right around Christmas time when all of the neighbors put up those blow-up decorations in their yards and we were like WOW, the little motors on those decorations are really loud. It didn’t take very long to figure out it wasn’t a little blow-up decoration motor. It was THAT FARM. (Imagine me pursing my lips and clinching my teeth when I say ‘that farm’ because that’s totally how I look.)

The fan on that farm? It’s like on Dumb & Dumber when Jim Carrey asks if his friend wants to hear the most annoying sound ever and then he lets out this incredible shriek of awfulness, except in my case it is a continuous shriek and it tends to last 24 hours a day for at least a week straight. Sure, it may be turned off for a few days every now and then, and those days are the most peaceful, bliss-filled days you could ever imagine. But then, just as I’m starting to fall in love with the sweet sound of crickets in my back yard all over again, Jim Carrey rears his awful head and starts shrieking in my ear.

During the winter months, we could tune it out a little better. Because it is winter and we’re hardly outside anyway and our windows are shut. And sure, it was still annoying, but then spring arrived.

Spring. Didn’t you know? The best part of spring is sleeping with the windows open; and guess what I’ve hardly had the pleasure of enjoying this spring? Sleeping with the windows open. Because that fan is shrieking in my ear, and rather than falling asleep to the cool breezes flirting with my curtains and the sound of distant frogs, all I hear is THAT FUCKING FAN.

I sent a letter of complaint to the city. I have reason to believe that they really don’t need to run the goddamned thing as often as they do. The city has not responded. I even printed off copies of the complaint form to hand out to the neighbors, because I KNOW they must be as pissed off as I am, they just have to be. Of course, then I was reviewing the city code which clearly laid out all of these rules about disturbing the peace, and I’m all, HAHA I TOTALLY WON, until I got to the last line about how agriculture noise is exempt from the policy.

Total crap.

So, yeah, when I say I’m never going to move again. What I mean is, I’m never moving again AS LONG as I can successfully wage a vigilante war against THAT FARM and win. Otherwise, I’m totally out.

Burning The Candle

To answer some questions.

No - I didn't keep my promise to blog.

Yes - I am completely, 100% WORN OUT, as I knew I would be, trying to keep up with my job, my family, and my class.

Yes - I am burning the candle at both ends.

Yes - I love it. I am loving school. I got an A on my first mid-term in 5 years. Do you KNOW how good that makes me feel? I want to be in school forever.

Yes - My Husband nearly burned down our new house. (Didn't see THAT coming, did you?)

For as long as we've been together I've had an aversion to candles. Not because I don't like them, because I am terrified my sometimes space cadet of a Husband (love you, Nate), will leave them burning.

I have a habit of blowing out the candles he's lit before going to bed. This behavior is always met with an eye roll, but I don't care because I KNOW he will forget.

Tuesday night he lit a candle on the computer desk.

Wednesday evening, he beat me home by not very much. On my way there, I called him and had a conversation that went like this:

Me: Hi. You know, I'm thinking, I don't really want to cook tonight. Maybe we could go out to eat?

Him: (distracted) Yeah, um, that sounds really great.

Me: OK, could you get the diaper bag ready so we can just leave right after I get home.

Him: Yep. (pause) OK, now I have to tell you something, but don't be mad.

Let me just pause right there and tell you that if you're significant other begins a sentence like that, it is time to immediately GET MAD.

You don't have to be a genius to figure out that the candle never got blown out. We are fortunate because it was sitting on a ceramic candle tray-like thing and there was nothing flammable in the immediate area.

The candle did have a little twine tie that went around the middle, so when my Husband got home that piece of twine was on fire and the smoke detectors were going off. It couldn't have actually been on fire for very long, the house was not completely filled with smoke, and from what I understand that piece of twine had not completely burned (I never got to see the evidence--SOMEONE disposed of it before I got the chance).

So. Yeah. My new house almost burned down this week.

And my Husband? Now completely banned from burning candles.

I guess you could say I'm burning the candle at both ends--figuratively and literally.

My Kid IS That Special

A few days ago, I read this article, erm opinion, titled "You're Kids Aren't That Special" on CNN. In it, a gentleman of mature age describes how he was never the greatest of parents, and was also an alcoholic, but he'd like to give his two cents about parents these days.

I've been mulling his opinion for a few days now, trying to decide if I agree, and I've decided: I'm pretty sure I'd like to punch him in the face (metaphorically speaking, of course).

To be clear, I've certainly encountered my share of parents that I'd like to grab by the shoulders and ask, "What the hell are you doing?" Children running amok in a department store, pushing and shoving other kids at the playground, generally raising havoc. It is true that some parents really do need a reality check.

However, raising kids today is nothing like raising kids 20, 30, 40+ years ago. Parents are absolutely bombarded with often conflicting messages about the best way to raise our children. Let them cry it out, don't let them cry it out, give them free expression, don't give them free expression, buy intelligence-enhancing toys, NO blocks are the way to go!

Along the way, more than a few of us have gotten confused. We all just want to do what is best, we're just not all sure what that is. One thing many of us cling to is the notion that our children should know that we think they are special. It gives them confidence in a scary world, something some of us wish we had more of.

And, by the way, my kid is that special. That's way he calls me Mom, it's my job to think he's that special. No, that doesn't give him license to act poorly in public, but young children can't be reasoned with and I don't know of a single parent who hasn't dealt with less-than-perfect children while glaring faces look on. There is nothing we fear more than a miserly old man scowling down our back when our child is throwing a fit at a restaurant, or on an airplane, or in print on CNN.

Maybe Mr. Cafferty forgot about the time his young children flung spaghetti at Grandma's or had a meltdown at Woolworth's. Or maybe, he's stuck on his own childhood memories, "I remember as a kid I was expected to behave myself out in public or suffer the wrath of one very angry father."

Perhaps that's why he's become an abject old man with a stick up his ass. Just sayin'.

I Hate Dell

I’m furious. Fuming with anger.

Because my new computer from DELL has been delayed five times now. Let me repeat that, FIVE TIMES!

At this point, we have no realistic idea when it might actually arrive. Customer service tells us, over and over, that it should ship “within a couple of days.” But, clearly, they’re lying. We ask what is holding up the order, and customer service doesn’t have that information. Okay, so we ask to be transferred to someone who does. Response, “there’s no such department.”

What? Then which department is it exactly that updates the ship date, out of curiosity? Because it happens like clock work: the ship date arrives, I check the status, and it’s been delayed again.

So, some component or another is holding up our computer, but no one at Dell knows what that is. Some where in oblivion someone is diabolically delaying our order, it’s the only explanation I can come up with. Realistically, I don’t expect to see my computer until August. And also, they can’t even cancel our order for us.

So, I’m taking the only recourse I can. I’m blogging about it. I will never do business with this company again, and if I can convince just one other person to join me in my Dell boycott, my work here has been accomplished.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading.

http://www.ihatedell.org/