See, none of my phone jacks are working at the new digs so I called the phone company and they gave me a 12 hour window when they will show up to fix the problem. 8am to 8pm. It is now 6pm and for the past 10 hours I've been upholding my end of the bargain by waiting. I take my waiting very seriously, all front porch and nose to the window, baited breath which smells suspiciously like York peppermint patties, thank god for fun sized. Now all these 10 hours later I'm a little worried the phone company isn't going to show up. I mean, I would call them to confirm? But, yeah. There's that. The fact that my phones don't work and I am losing patience and my Tivo is apparently not compatible with the HD tv that miraculously sprouted up in my limbo'ed absence so I get all of 12 stupid channels and still don't know what the fuck HD tv is or why I need to see Bret Michaels in high definition. Moving sucks. Ass. It sucks ass and nothing is more depressing than empty boxes and lath and plaster walls, nail holes that aren't your own and not being able to find your broom or your Tylenol or your sense of humor, your clothes in garbage bags, coat hangers poking through. (Except maybe 44 toddlers dying in a daycare fire in Mexico--that is more depressing than lath and plaster walls for sure, but still. Jesus.) Moving sucks ass and my friends should be happy I have no phone service or else I'd be calling them to complain.
Susannah p.s. Know what else I hate? The term "new digs." I don't know why, I just do. Back tomorrow with an attitude adjustment. I also hate the term "attitude adjustment." p.p.s. It is now 9:22pm and guess who never showed up? stop The phone company. stop I am totally bringing back Western Union telegrams because phones now officially suck it. stop Twelve hours. stop. No, you stop. full stop