The Universe as Conscious Nemesis

Tuesdays. Usually innocuous. A day between that awful first day after the weekend and the hump-day that keeps us going until we reach another weekend.

But mine was off-kilter. It began in the wee hours, as any lurking ghost-reporters would have told you, I was cursing (again) the sad state of affairs in the world of Customer Service. They should just go ahead and change that moniker to Customer Disservice. I was on hold with Comcast, trying to figure out why I could not get online. This, after spending the last week, at the rate of 10 or 12 hours a day, trying to get my failing computer back into working status. There had been some nasty viruses in residence, that i finally found and removed using Malwarebytes. Seems the mother of them all these days is called AntiVir Solution Pro. It's claim to PC-crashing fame is that it pretends to be a program that found some nasty malware on your computer and politely--then insistingly--offers to remove it if you click the button. It even tells you it can sell you the ultimate way to get rid of them. All that clicking does is infect your computer more. The really malicious part of this fake-spyware program, is that it usurps your computer so completely, that you can almost never get around it. It keeps you from opening any program--including another virus checker. I got around it by booting into Windows and quickly going to task manager and removing any unfamiliar processes running, before the virus could take over. Then i ran Malwarebytes and got rid of it. But the damage was done. Apparently, there had been some corruption going on for some time. Anyway, I was trying to get back online so i could do some research and fix the other residual issues, and just could not get the networking devices to operate. So when I was on hold with Comcast for about a half hour, i finally reached someone, and then promptly got disconnected. I didn't call back. I was afraid I'd have a short fuse and couldn't bear talking to some foreign person who couldn't understand English--after i had so carefully pressed one for English.

So I called my tech service, Magic Flash Drive, and connected with the one guy who didn't seem to know what he was doing. They had no selection for English, and so I got a guy from --i don't know--Pakistan? Heavy accent, language barrier--there was no way to tell him what was going on, it seemed. He kept asking me stupid questions that let me know he hadn't understood a word i said. "Did you press enter?" or "are your cables connected?" In fairness, he's the only one at MFD service I found like this. The other two guys I've dealt with have been great. I've discovered that the good ones always seem to work after 11pm.  Anyway, I was very frustrated, and by this time, my partner, D. was about to be home from work (she's a night supervisor, EMT and Security Officer for a certain community. Love a woman with a stethoscope and a gun).

Ready for a break from the Tech-nightmare, I stood up, cursing my screwed up knee, and D.'s 100 year old Siamese, Kidd, urped on the floor, and so I had to clean that up. Then I was heading for the fridge for water,  walked into the dining room, and found a surprise. A big puddle compliments of The Little Bastard, as i call him. He's an irritating, incontinent dog who comes upstairs from the basement apartment, currently occupied by my partner's mom. He had finally managed to claw down the gate and make it upstairs. It's a stark reminder of why I don't generally like dogs. So i had to clean up that mess. 

Then D. called and says that she'll be late, because she had a flat, and gave me the whole story of how completely aggravating the whole thing was, and then she finally made it home and we went to my doctor's appointment at the VA.

Now, i have a knee-jerk stress response to going to the VA. My normal blood pressure of 120/70 become 145/100. It's related to that whole nightmare i went through for years with them and the military (for more details than you could ever hope for, see my memoir, Falling Through the Cracks: The Misadventures of No One Famous for a full telling of that crap). Surprisingly, the appointment itself was good. Meaning, I didn't feel the need to kill anyone, but the medication I needed would require a visit with another doctor, and that might be a week away. 

When i came out, i had to text D. to find her. Seems she'd gone to put money in the parking meter and found a ticket from the overzealous security folks who work there. 25 bucks because her tire was a bit over the line--only because the guy next to her parked like he was legally blind, and was way over the line on the other side of her. Bastards, all.

We took pictures of the situation, just in case we needed to plead the case, but ultimately, you just have to pay tickets like that when you work at night and would have no sleep on court day, and then have to go back to work that night in that condition. So much for professional courtesy. Or good sense.

So after that, we went back home and she had house and yard stuff to do so I could go do some errands I'd put off--deposit a rebate check into my dangerously low account, and to Wal-mart. On the way, at least three people tried to kill me with their paltry driving skills. When i got to the bank, i found they were not opening until 10am, so i had to put the check into the ATM night deposit. But I didn't know my account number. Luckily that was in my iPhone, but unluckily, my iPhone was in the Cherryot. So i had to walk way over to where i had found the last parking space on earth, and get it, and look up my number. I finally got the deposit in, sure that the scary bandanna-wearing Mexican guy was a gang member about to honor his initiation by mugging me, (but avoided that fate, at least) and headed off to Wal-mart to return the airbed i had purchased in an effort to find rest since the demise of my coveted foamy mattress.

I am afflicted with an inability to sleep on anything other than foam. I had been worried I would never be able to get another mattress like that because it seems that foam is made from petroleum products and we all know how the prices have risen on that. The mattress i was replacing had cost me $80 five years ago. Now, it seems, a comparable one (8" high density

sofa foam, sized for a full bed) was now around $300 and to cut it they would only charge $600 or so. Insane. For that price, i thought, I could just go with memory foam. But i knew those beds were several thousand. I thought maybe i could find just the mattress. So i began to search. My best friend was always trumpeting about the wonders of Overstock.com for good deals on everything, and so i looked there, and lo! --I found a 4 inch mattress topper in memory foam for around $80. I decided four inches of foam was better than no inches at all. (See? size really does matter). I ordered it and had it shipped. So, the trip to Wal-mart was to return the airbed, which was half-deflated the next morning after using it the first time. We took it off the bed and went back to the regular mattress with an eggcrate foam piece on top.

As most of you who read this blog knows, in the interim, i had to put my cat, Shoes, to sleep, and was dealing with the crash of my computer, which renders my whole life to shreds, and i just

didn't do much of anything else for a while, including keep track of the fine print on receipts that said airbeds had to be returned within a certain number of days. So here I am at Wal-Mart, dumbly trying to get a refund. When the clerk explained the time-limit, I argued. (What a shock.) I told her I had been dealing with a computer crash and a sick cat who i had lost, and just didn't get back in here in that time. Didn't' know there was a limit. She refused. I asked to speak to her manager. She refused. I asked to speak to the manager above her, and HE refused. Now, I'm thinking about my cat again, and crying, and thinking about my dead-in-the-water computer, and crying some more, and angry and upset that i seem to have wasted $45 on a bed i wouldn't use. The best they could do was exchange it. So they gave me another bed of the same kind. I left feeling like this was another example of stupid rules that should be broken sometimes by those with the authority to do so.

As i was unlocking the door to come back in the house, i heard a crash. I walked in and said "What the fuck?" A cabinet had fallen forward, inexplicably, and scattered two potted plants, trinkets and a store of food all over the dining room floor. I thought it was lucky I'd cleaned up the pee, or else we would have been plucking that stuff out of a stinky puddle. I asked her how the hell it fell over and she said she didn't know. It just fell over. For no apparent reason. There were no cats anywhere near it. I told her that the shadow people she always saw at night at work, who appeared and disappeared, must have followed her home, and oh great, now we have our own poltergeist. We cleaned up the mess and I said, "Baby, I think the universe is out to get us today and we ought to just stay inside and hide everything sharp." She agreed. We are of like-mind.

I told her about all the crap I had been dealing with, and that I had cleverly decided i would just wait a few days and take the airbed to another Wal-mart and get a refund within the time limit. That's when D. pointed out that the clerk had written "exchange only" on the receipt. Foiled again.

So I have to wonder, when I have days like that, if there really is such a thing as a conscious universe, and if it has the ability to peg you as the subject of its wrath. At least now, those bad days are shared with someone who loves me, and we can weather the storm together.

The Universe as Conscious Nemesis

Lemony Snicket Rides Again

 I'm making a late-night trip back to my apartment to pack some more and bring a few more things back for storage. I had been a little stressed throughout the day, since my bank account had been hacked for the second time, and they were sending me still another new Debit card. Meanwhile, the transfer of funds to my PayPal account was still pending, and I couldn't use it as it was, because the back up funding was still set for the previous account number. To make matters worse, the temporary ATM card from last time was useless, as I could not recall the temporary pass code, and it was Saturday night, and the bank would also be closed Sunday. Essentially, I had no access to my own money. But I knew that getting something accomplished always made me feel better, and I'm not good at huge transitions wherein everything in my life changes all at once. My girl was still tired and not feeling well, so she stayed, but bless her, handed me her card so I could get gas. My Cherryot was running on fumes. She understood that I had to be productive or I'd lose my mind.

So off I went, hoping to get a little closer to being moved completely out of the apartment by the end of the month, without the stress of doing it at the last minute, as I usually have done.

When i drive at night in new areas, I often suffer from Directional Dyslexia. Instead of turning right, i turn left, and wind up having to begrudgingly check my GPS, only to see the little blue dot that is me, heading in the wrong direction. So last night, I realized this was just what i had done, and that section of the city was almost void of traffic. I pulled off to a side street and stopped to check my GPS, and then made the turn around back in the other direction, still worrying that I wouldn't find a gas station before I got myself stranded with an empty tank.

Ever have one of those days that just seem ripe for disaster? Too many things going wrong, and this generalized sense that the Universe is not on your side? Well, this sensation kicked into gear about the time I pulled over to see if a particular gas station was still open. The store looked closed, but the gas pumps were on. About that time, I saw the blue lights flashing in my rear view.

No way. What could this lawman possibly want? I've always prided myself on being a law abiding citizen, so wasn't sure what this stop was about.

Like the conscientious citizen I am, i placed both my hands on the steering wheel and waited. He flooded my vehicle with the spotlight and then made sure he hit me in the eyes with his maglight, for good measure.

"I stopped you because you pulled off the road and weren't in a parking space..."
Weren't in a parking space?
"...and you didn't use your turn signal when you made that U-turn."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I just moved here, and was lost and checking the GPS on my phone."
"And you're not supposed to be looking at your phone."
As respectfully as i could, i said. "That's why i pulled over. So I could look at it safely."
"Well, you weren't in a proper place to park."
Now, remember, this street was deserted and there were no cars.
" And you didn't use your turn signal."
"Who would I be signaling to, officer?"
I don't think he liked that, so I tried not to argue the point further. "Look. I'm sorry, there was no one around, and I was just trying to get my bearings. I'm running on fumes and need to find a gas station...I'm sure you can appreciate how scary that can be for a woman alone..."
He apparently couldn't appreciate it, and asked for my driver's license, insurance and registration. I obliged and handed him the documents. I still had my Arkansas Drivers' license. "How long have you been in Colorado?"
"About a year."
"Where do you live?"
I gave him the information about where I was moving from and where i was moving to. He said to stay put, and he'd be right back. I guess he thought he was going to find some warrant or something.

While I waited, I texted my girlfriend, D., and told her what was happening. She advised me to give him a sob story about being lost and new in town. I told her i already tried that and he wasn't biting.

He came back and announced that he was going to give me a break. He could give me two tickets for not using my blinker, twice, and one for an out of state driver's license. I told him I had not switched it over yet. He said I had 30 days to do that in Colorado. I told him I didn't realize that; it was still a valid license, and hadn't expired, so I hadn't done it yet. He reiterated that I had 30 days. So he could have given me a ticket for that. But because he was such a peach, he would only cite me for not using my turn signal.

I'm thinking, really? you have nothing better to do than this? A deserted street where one lone car didn't signal, and a person moving to the area and out of gas, and trying to find a gas station while she was lost? Isn't there a meth lab you can raid or something?

He was haughty and unsympathetic. I decided against telling him he was a dick, and just took the citation. "I'm still looking for a gas station...."
He pointed. "We're in the parking lot of one."
I said, ignoring his condescending tone, "It looks closed to me."
"The pumps are still open, if you have a card."
"Oh." I wasn't aware that this was something available to me. Good thing I had Officer Feel-Good to fill me in. He handed me the citation and said goodnight. I wanted to smack him. No oh, could you use some help finding your way? No Well, I-25 is that way, and there's a gas station right over there, and I'm just going to let you off with a warning, and you be careful about using your blinker from now on? To me, it just seems overkill. Like these types are bored, and full of their own authority. One of my bigger irritants.

So I pull over to the gas pump of the closed station, and put in the card that my girlfriend gave me. I had a hard time seeing the display and had to use a flashlight. The pump started and Iinserted the nozzle and began to pump, but the handle kept clicking off. I'd get a cent in there and it would stop. Another cent, and it would stop. I got up to ten cents before i said fuck it, and replaced the nozzle in the cradle, and moved the Cherryot around to another pump. That's when i saw the guy staggering across the street from the bar, heading for me. Don't come over here, don't come over here, i chanted in my mind. But he continued in my direction. So i leaned into the cab and retrieved my trusty .25 automatic and slipped it in my pocket. When he came too close, I said. "Don't come near me," with my hand on the gun in my pocket. He stood staring at me for a moment and i wasn't sure how this was going to play out. Would i have to pull the gun out, and then about that time Officer Feel Good would drive by, and see it, and I'd be in big trouble for having a gun? Even though, again, I was a woman alone in a dark part of town, with no one within earshot. But the drunk wandered off, and so I was relieved that I could move my vehicle over to another pump.

Guess what? that pump had the same affliction. So with 13 cents in my empty tank, I cursed my way back into the Cherryot, and headed back down the street toward what i hoped would be an open gas station with working pumps. A few blocks later, I saw a Shamrock station and pulled in, got gas in the normal way, and things seemed okay as I was replacing my gas cap. That's when i noticed the big black guy coming toward me. He was saying "I know you don't know me, but--" I didn't need to hear any more. I just got in the Cherryot, closed the door, clicked the locks and pulled away. The guy RUNS around the pumps to block my exit, screaming obscenities at me. I had to swerve to miss him, and circled out of the lot, checking my side mirror and noticing that my gas tank door was still open. I hoped I had put the gas cap back on securely, and was thankful that the timing didn't force me to drive away with the nozzle still in my tank. 

So yeah, it could have been worse. I made a circle down a back street for good measure, in case he was following me in his vehicle, if he had one nearby. I headed down the main drag for a while until I found  still another gas station and I just parked to the side, stressed. Just then two police cars shot in and stopped and I had all kinds of tragic fantasies about that. They went inside as I imagined that this station was probably being robbed, and I would be a victim of crossfire. Things looked quiet enough, and so i just sat there for a minute and took a breath.

I called D. again and filled her in on what had happened. I was thinking i shouldn't go to

Lakewood this night. things were just out of sync and i felt something bad might happen. 

That's when D. said, "You know, Baby, maybe you should just come home--" I told her i was just thinking the same thing. This was not a night i needed to be driving around. It would probably be wise for me to just take all these signs as warnings, and just avoid tempting fate.

So I told her I was coming home. I checked my map again, and headed to the house.

When i got there, i had a beer, and got some supportive cuddles from my girl. My need to be productive could wait another day.

Lemony Snicket Rides Again

I'm having (gulp) good luck.

Things seem to be trending my way. Anyone who knows my recent history knows that that is a milestone all by itself. I have been too isolated for a long time and have been trying to arrange a relocation to the Denver/Boulder area, but that's a process that will take some time. Meanwhile, I wanted to have a social life again. So I placed an ad on Craig's List. Now, if someone had told me this before, I would have done Craig's list instead of the 40 other dating sites. Hands down, I have had more luck meeting women because of that ad than with all the other ads combined. I have made some really great new friends. There are EIGHT new women in my life.

There is one exception to the Craig's list thing: A teacher from Joplin with a really cool name, which I regrettably will have to omit for reasons of privacy, etc. But i met her on Yahoo. I had to make it a paid membership just to talk to her--and told her that this, in fact, meant she'd be obligated to go on a date with me. LOL. But it looks promising, in that I am a little excited about her. She's cute, and we texted (OMG, i hate texting...she's one of those people who send you three text messages while you're still typing in the answer to the first one. My phone started smoldering...I'm either going to have to avoid it altogether or get a Blackberry) Finally I called her and said "Oh my god!" We chatted for a few minutes, and she was on her way out of town, but hopefully I'll be able to meet her soon. Might be able to talk on phone with her tonight after my date. (Yes. I have a date on Valentine's day, for once.) Oh, and "Joplin" also plays racquetball, so hopefully I'll have a partner for that soon, again. I miss it.

I've also signed on as an Independent Rep for NJOY, electronic Cigarettes--about which I am extremely enthused. This product has allowed me to quit smoking tobacco for good. After 25 years of trying to quit. I am all about eCigs now.

I also have several new proofreaders for those 13 books I continue to jerk out of print and edit again and again. I needed fresh eyes. So soon i will have final versions of all 13 back on Amazon. And I am working on about 6 others, that I hope to finish this year.

I have some extra money nowadays as well, which has made a big difference too. I'm actually able to go and do and buy. That's also a welcome change. (Now if I can just procure that lucrative contract with a mainstream publisher, I'll be set. ).

I've met many of my major goals--the only big personal one i have now is to lose that extra lard I've gathered....I'll have to finally put that DVD in the player and work out to the cardio-from-hell routine...i tried it a month ago, and after five minutes, i thought I would die. Unbelievable how strenuous it is. But it's just what I need now.

Maybe I'll even (finally) sell my land in Alamosa. (anyone?).

So anyway, this is more a journal entry than a blog, but I felt it was important for me to commemorate that my life seems to be going in a positive direction now. 'bout time.

I'm having (gulp) good luck.

That Dark Thing on my Head

(Excerpt from my memoir, "Falling Through the Cracks: The Misadventures of No One Famous")

Terra has recently discovered the power of her own gift of intuition. She's a baby-psychic, really. She also has an uncanny sense of smell.

Once when we were getting in my van, she sniffed the air like a bloodhound and said, "Someone just lit a cigarette-" and then frowned over at me, since I'm a smoker and she's not, and we always go round and round about it. It wasn't me, and I accused her of being so sensitive, that she imagines things.

Well, we pulled away from the curb, and around the corner. And there stood a young man puffing away. She looked over at me victoriously, and I could only shake my head. Scary, really, these visions of things and people and objects that prove accurate.

At night while she's falling asleep, she has graphic images of snakes and big rocks falling on her head. This sounds like the sort of images I should be having, but I digress...

About a year ago, during one of our prolonged phone conversations in the wee hours of the morning, she announced that she could see "a dark thing on my head."

I said, "You mean a freckle?"

"Well, no...it's big...and like, attached...sort of like a spider--"

"You mean, like that thing in Alien?"

"Well, yeah, except it's dark, like that goopy stuff you find in old plumbing...Its legs wrap around your head and hold the sides of your face...one of them goes into the corner of your eye..."

The pregnant silence that followed was enough to make her try to wiggle out of the subject, but I pressed. She believed it was somehow symbolic of this negative energy that follows me around like the proverbial black cloud. Only this was a dark growth of some sort. Like Cancer. Not exactly what I wanted to hear before going sleep.

That Dark Thing on my Head