Thoughts

Tomorrow evening a gaggle of co-workers are getting together at the home of one of them to have "craft night." It's an annual gathering; last year was the first time I attended, and it was great fun. I knitted on a pair of wristwarmers that I never wear. Well, it was good practice anyway. I may just work on a new pair this year--but using double-pointed needles, a new skill I developed this fall. How impressive I will be!

Granted, I won't be as impressive as those who knit one sock inside the other. Someday, perhaps.

***

I just looked out the window to see a man and a woman straining to push an enormous old truck down the side street into a parking space. I put on my hat and told myself to go out and see if I could help; as I was standing up, I heard someone in the next office exclaim in irritation. "What are they doing? No, no, no, don't you get close to my car!" Her SUV was parked on the same street where they were maneuvering the truck....but they weren't anywhere near it. They were still 20 feet away from it, probably.

I went out to help, but they'd already successfully parked the truck. I offered them the phone, but they didn't need it, so I trudged back inside. The coworker who had been irritated said, "Ah, you are such a good person. God sees that!"

"Well, I didn't go out there until they were almost done," I pointed out wryly.

"God sees that, too!" she cackled. "God can see it!"

Well, if that's the case, then...Lord? Sorry for all the nose-picking earlier. I just--there was something in there, okay? All this dust from the packing and the moving...I just needed clearer nasal passages. I'm sorry You had to see it.

***

I cleared everything off the bulletin board at my desk at work last week in a fit of frustration at a particularly insulting memo from administration. I wasn't planning on quitting over it--not right away, at least--but I was going to be out for a few days anyway, for moving, and I wanted to clean up my desk in any case, so...down came everything. When I was done it looked like any old generic workstation, no sign of an occupant but for a few files in an organizer next to the monitor.

Now I keep looking over for the calendar that isn't on the bulletin board anymore, and feeling a little silly for being so dramatic. On the other hand, it's nice and uncluttered. I can keep tabbing to my Outlook for a calendar, right? Oh, the solipsistic battle 'twixt "making a statement" that nobody can interpret but me, and "giving in" for my habits of convenience!

***

Another coworker gave me a festive jingly bracelet yesterday. I put it on for friendship's sake, and now I can't stop jingling it. I walk down the hallways twitching my wrist as if I have a severe (but strangely limited in scope) palsy.

Ho ho ho!

Connection

So with all the moving, I'd called Comcast last week to see about transferring my cable and internet to the new place. "No problem," I was told, "since there's already service at that location we can just transfer service without interruption."

Sweet, I thought. Then Friday evening I turned on the tv--nothing.

I called Comcast and was told by an insufferably snippy woman, "Well, the previous tenant cancelled their service, so it's been disconnected. We'll have to send someone out to reconnect it."

"Wait a minute," I said. "Every time someone moves you send someone out to disconnect their service, even if you know you'll just be sending someone else out to reconnect it? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"The soonest we can have someone there is Tuesday afternoon," she snapped.

"That's riiiiight," I chortled, "I remember this--you can't make an appointment, can you? I have to stay here all day waiting for the cable guy, don't I? Oh, that's precious."

"No, you do not have to wait all day," the huffy customer "service" rep snarled.

"Ooooh, did you all cut down the time necessary? Do I only have to set aside five hours now instead of eight?"

"No," she said, as if it were ridiculous, "You do not have to wait five hours."

"Really??" I said with astonishment.

"It's only a four hour window," she continued.

I laughed and laughed. "Oooh, great! Only four hours!"

She got snippier. "Ma'am, I understand you're upset, but that's no reason to be sarcastic."

"Actually," I said, "If I weren't being sarcastic I'd probably be yelling at you. I think you probably prefer it this way."

So I took this afternoon off and waited at home for the cable guy. Waited, waited, waited. Noon to four was my "appointment window." At 4:15 I called Comcast. The cable technician had been delayed at his previous appointment; he should arrive by 5:15.

Wow, sweet. Only an hour and fifteen minutes past the window I'd been told to set aside. Why was I even surprised?

Then the cable guy showed up, at 5:15 as promised. He gave me a hooded smirk and said, "Yeah, wow, it's getting pretty dark, huh? You wanna reschedule for another day? It's a pretty complicated job since there wasn't service here before."

Annoyed at the idea of wasting yet another afternoon sitting at home, I informed him that there was in fact service at this location until last Thursday when Comcast turned it off. "I just need it turned back on," I explained again.

"Oh, well..." he stared at his papers. "Well, I gotta tell you, I just came from another job down the street that I had to reschedule, because I left my tools at the jobsite before that one. So I'll have to go, either way...I mean, I can get my tools and come back...should be about 45 minutes."

"See you then!" I smiled.

He came back at 6:00. The cables were connected by 6:15, so I guess it wasn't such a complicated job after all.

I got a $20 credit toward my bill since he wasn't there during the allotted window. Of course, they charged me a $10 fee each for turning on the cable and the internet, so it's really a wash. Stupid gits. I'm not as irritated with the guy himself (he seemed nice enough when he returned, and he petted Chloe quite fondly) as with the ridiculous monopoly Comcast enjoys that allows them to jerk their customers around like this. I mean, really. A six-hour period where I'm just supposed to sit home and wait for the cable guy to appear and grace me with his cheerful smile? Argh.

Anyway, I've been reconnected to the outside world, and the tubes of the internets should be humming along soon--they aren't yet, because after all that, our cable modem is in Mr. Thel's car right now. So I came up to the bookstore to post this riveting account of my irritation with Comcast, because the flame of my devotion to Holidailies cannot be quenched by such feeble obstacles. Nay, though all the forces of Comcast are arrayed against me, I will post daily!

Hello, Holidailies

I guess it would have made more sense to make an introductory post on the first day of the month instead of four days into it. Well, that's thing one to learn about me--I don't always do things the easy or sensible way. Yes, I count it a character flaw.

I'm a 27-year-old woman who still has a hard time feeling responsible and grown-up enough to identify with the label "woman" as opposed to "girl." You can call me Thel. I live in Seattle with Mr. Thel and a large black dog named Chloe. I work in the office of a nonprofit agency, where I do a lot of filing, entering data, and answering the phone. And date-stamping--don't forget the date-stamping. Critical duty, date-stamping.

I read a lot of books and sometimes I write about that. My 2006 New Year Resolution was to read 50 books this year, and I'm up to 40. I don't think I'll make my goal, but I did move into a different house last week and that process sucked up a lot of valuable reading time. I've been knitting for about a year and a half, another activity that took away time from reading; sometimes I write about the knitting, too.

I'm hoping to buy a house in the next few months, but I'm perpetually pessimistic about the likelihood that some stupid detail will prevent me. I've been abysmal at keeping personal records and paperwork in order in the past, and although I'm getting better at it, well, some of those past errors may come back to haunt me.

In the meantime, having been unceremoniously booted from our mother-in-law apartment situation by a landlady claiming to need the space for a relative, Mr. Thel and Chloe and I are subletting a little cottage with a big back yard until the middle of March. We're hoping this will give us time to work out the details on purchasing a house as mentioned above. It's nice to have that option, but it's depressing as hell to live in a house full of unfamiliar things. I'm trying to diminish my sense of alienation by making up stories about the strangers whose pictures adorn the walls (that one on the bottom must be Gram and Grampa, Myrtle and Fred. Fred was in the Navy in WWII and became a preacher after; Myrtle met him at one of the traveling revivals he led, and it wasn't but a month later that she up and moved to Montana to be his wife.).

Stories are fun but it still feels like we're living in a motel.

Did I mention that I don't deal well with change? That's another true thing. Here are two more: I'm afraid of spiders, and the thing that keeps me up most consistently at night is my simultaneous terror of existing forever and of permanently ceasing to exist. I also don't like my hands feeling sticky. I'm told that at my "Happy First Birthday!" party when a cake was placed upon my high chair tray for me to gluttonously demolish, I delicately dipped one finger into the frosting. Then I held aloft my frosting-smeared finger and whimpered until someone wiped it clean. I may not be as whiny about it anymore but my sentiment remains the same.

That's a lot of distaste, Thel. What are some other things you actually like? I like puppies and rainbows and lollipops, naturally. I like hiking and bicycling, knitting and crocheting, writing and drawing, and I like to read whatever's handy. I've been known to flip through a dictionary for fun; yesterday I started reading Mr. Thel's cryptography book and ended up spending two hours playing with substitution codes. Actually, that was more calming than anything else I did yesterday. I think I'm going to go read some more of that.

It's nice to meet you, Holidailies. Questions? Quibbles? Do my petty concerns pale beside yours? The comments are open!

The Face of Oppression

Thel [reading in bed]: Haha, there's a line in my book you'll enjoy.
Mr. Thel: Hmm?
Thel: Well this one character is trying to calm down some others and he says, "'Remember the First Principle of Nonviolence in the Face of Oppresson!'" And then someone mutters something about taking a Trowel to the Face of Oppression.
Mr. Thel: (chuckles)
Mr. Thel: I'd prefer a Shotgun Blast to the Face of Oppression.

Casa casa casa

Soon this blog will stop being all about moving all the time. Soon, but not today.

Did I mention that we're subletting a house right now? It's true. It used to be a lakefront cottage--like, fifty years ago. Then apparently they moved it up the hill to its current location, which is not on a lake. The fact that it was moved means it's a little...crooked. And the fact that it was a cottage, probably for vacation use, means it's a little...small. Granted, it's probably ever so slightly larger than the apartment we used to live in. And the yard is a goodly size. But--did I mention we're subletting it furnished? And the bookshelves in the living room currently block the front door? So you have to walk around to the back door to enter, which means you go through the utility room, the bedroom, and the kitchen just to get to the living room?

I don't know how many people I'm going to have over for a visit if I have to make sure every room in the house is presentable before they come. I mean, I'm not filthy but I'm pretty messy, especially in rooms that are usually private.

Anyway, Chloe was kind of freaking out yesterday in the final stages of the move. I guess she got nervous being left upstairs with no furniture remaining except her bed...probably afraid we were just leaving the place for her to live in alone. This is a dog who won't even play outside by herself: if I leave her in the yard for a few minutes, she will either sit by the door and wait to be let in, or pace along the side of the house until she's let in.

Then we came over to the sublet, where all the furniture is strange and different. It didn't help her mood at all; she's been all but attached to my heel all day. Forget going to the bathroom alone--Chloe's having none of it.

She finally settled down enough to eat some food for the first time in two days.

Wow, that was an exciting post all about the habits and neuroses of my German Shepherd Dog! Tune in tomorrow for a meticulous account of exactly which belongings I packed in each box, or something equally exciting.

Or maybe I'll tell you how we made a (tentative, caveat-packed, but nonetheless real) offer on a house in Rainier Beach!

As my faithful two Seattle readers already know, it's been a little wintry here lately. This morning was the first time in my entire life, I do believe, that I woke up to see snow on the ground for the sixth day in a row. Snow that hung around for almost an entire week! In Seattle! Far-fetched, dude!

The clouds had deposited the faintest skiff of snow in our neighborhood on Sunday morning. Really, only enough to cause a slight nubbly coat on cold cars--nothing stuck to the ground. I took Chloe for a walk early that morning; down the block we spied a child who had a handful of snow, diligently scraping more from a car.

"Whoa, you found enough for a snowball!" I said.

He looked at me earnestly. "We're building a snowman!" he announced optimistically.

I was astonished, and was about to offer the meager snow layer from my car's windshield for the task when he added, with a very stern look, "Believe me, it is NOT EASY."

Oh, I believed him. Then later that evening it snowed for hours while my friend and I enjoyed free tickets to the Nutcracker ballet. And then the next evening it snowed like mad right as evening traffic was heaviest. (I'm saving my story for later in this month of daily posts. Hey, a girl's gotta ration her tidings. Ooh, that would be a good blog name--"Rationed Tidings." And Google tells me I'm the first to come up with that phrase!) So I'm hoping he got to make a much bigger snowman than he'd planned.

In unrelated news, this is my last post from this house, since our landlady is booting us out. We'll be subletting a nearby house until March 21--and I'm hoping to buy a house before we have to move again, so that we can forever bid farewell to capriciously incompetent landlords. Cross your fingers for me, internet! Meanwhile, back I go to cleaning windowsills. In a few more hours I'll say adieu to this crappily managed but nevertheless lovely little quasi-house and the crime-plagued alley behind it.

Sniff.

Um

I saw a sidebar ad for a new movie this morning:

Vacation is over for a group of travelers when a bus accident leaves them stranded in a Brazilian jungle that holds an ominous secret. Come to foxatomic.com to find out how you can win your own tropical getaway!

Wow, I'm not sure that's a tropical getaway I want to pursue, actually.

NaBloPoMo

Um...yeah.

So the first day of NaBloPoMo, at 7:15 a.m., Mom called from Oregon to tell me Dad had had a series of "mini-strokes" during the night. (And let me tell you, her use of the diminutive "mini" did nothing to allay my immediate panic.)

Dad was in the hospital for almost a week, I took a train down for a long weekend--and things turned out okay. Dad suffered no permanent effects from the "mini-strokes" (TIA's, apparently), and after starting on blood thinners had no more of them.

But needless to say, my NaBloPoMo participation was shot. (There is no internet in Reston.) (Okay, there is, but it's dialup, yo. And you usually have to start it up two or three times in order to get a halfway decent connection speed. I just didn't deal with it. I was mostly at the hospital anyway.)

More bad news followed hard upon the heels of Dad's stroke, and then some more stressful news on top of that, and I spent a week scrambling to find a place to move into at the end of the month. Now that's settled, and we "just" have to pack everything and put most of it in storage.

So here's the thing, Internet: I'm bucking the establishment and doing MY NaBloPoMo month in DECEMBER. Ha! Take that, establishment! I defy you! I refuse to conform!

Yeah, that's the ticket--this is all about cool, youthful rebellion, and not a series of unfortunate events that forced me to postpone my participation against my will.

Anyway. Watch this space in December as I, lonely, straggle in with a month of consecutive daily posts.

Sigh

So I just got an email newsletter from the Sojourners that contained the following line:

In this election, both the Religious Right and the secular Left were defeated, and the voice of the moral center was heard."

And I just had to go remove myself from the email list. Really? So there's no morality in secular folks, I guess. Hush my mouth! Thanks, Jim Wallis.

Home

At the train station in Eugene two people stood just out of the boarding line, huddled against the wall out of the rain. Their faces close together, they smiled into each other's eyes and murmured endearments too personal to watch--I looked away until they parted, one of them slowly boarding the train with many glances back at the other.

Their bond had been palpable as they stood together, and I started thinking about the way two people's love becomes almost a thing of its own, a thing with heft and solidity and presence. It's like they were building a structure, the two of them, something bigger than either of them that could enclose them both inside it.

And if that's the way of it, then we've built ourselves a house together by now. It looks awfully crooked sometimes from the outside, I know, but the envelope is sealed, I assure you. Inside there are solid floors and straight walls. There are small rooms in you that I can hide myself in, and rooms with tall windows that we can look out from together. There is a room with a fireplace where a big black dog likes to snooze, and a small music studio lined with instruments. You can always find hot schnitzel ready in the kitchen, and the little garden beside the back door is always in season.

Wherever we go, you and I, whatever we do, this house stands. It's become a place of its own in the past few years, and it will stand on its own regardless of what happens to us. And more than a house, it's become my home, and your home, and such a home cannot be razed or burnt, cannot be pulled down by other hands that mean us harm. This one place they cannot touch. Neither moth nor rust can consume it, and no thief knows the way to break through and steal the treasure we've laid up there.

No matter what, I will always dwell with you in this house we have built. Know that. The fire will always be lit when you arrive, the dog wagging eagerly down the walkway, and my own self standing in the doorway to welcome you home, now and forever.