Monday, May 28, 2007


I am so tired. I just can't get ahead. I know that I don't have half the problems the rest of the world does. I have my health, a man who loves me, a good job, a family who supports me, both parents alive and healthy, two funny pets and loyal friends. I have all the big stuff figured out. Everything that matters is a-okay, on track and happy happy.

It's just the devil in the details. I go through these spates of bad luck and bullshit, and I'm just fucking sick of it. 99% of the time I can laugh about days like this and this. I can laugh about how when Joel and I did eHarmony, they were only hocking 13 dimension of compatibility. Now the commercials boast about 29, and I wonder what the missing 16 were. Based on our life together, I have a pretty good guess. Mutual degree of extreme clumsiness? Check. Equally rotten fucking luck with cars? Check. Weird shit that just happens, like sustaining bodily injuries from passing baseballs? Check.

Frankly, it's ideal. Neither one of us can stay mad at the other for very long, because it's truly only a matter of minutes until the other breaks something, loses something or trips over a cord connecting one expensive thing to something else. It's so nice to not to have to explain myself or have my partner gaze at me with a mixture of amazement, exasperation and pity (amazesperity?) that I've once again found a brand new way to lose my keys. To be fair, Joel does sometimes look at me with, um, amazesperity, but then he reaches into the dishwasher for a clean plate and pulls out only half a jagged shard on what was a whole plate until he touched it. It's like looking in a mirror.

Want the latest rundown? My car started making a funky sound. Joel and I took it for a spin. It's wouldn't make the noise for HIM. Nonetheless, he ends up accidentally pocketing the keys and leaves at Early O'Dark last Saturday morning to tutor in the city. I get up to leave for work. No keys. There's a cheery message on my voicemail not to panic, Joel has my keys. Of course, I don't have a spare because I had just lost my entire set of keys two days before while covering a huge electrical fire in a thunderstorm. I made A1 pictures and uploaded live video for the evening news broadcast, which I narrated live via phone from "the field," oh yes, I am a badass. I JUST FUCKING DROPPED MY KEYS SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY. Just fucking shoot me.

So anyway. Joel drove back from the city at 80 miles an hour to hand off the only remaining key for my car. I manage to make it to a Revolutionary War re-enactment, shoot lacrosse in the rain, photograph 500 7th Day Adventists marching to their new church, and while away the rest of my relaxing evening at the M!ss Puerto Ric@n D@y P@rade P@geant.

But back to the funky automobile noise! See, I wasn't that worried. It's a new car, even though I've put 19,500 miles on it since October, but what could really be wrong? needs all new brakes. Nothing covered by the warranty, since brakes are expected to wear out over time. $400.

Then, mammajamma photo printer we use constantly has "parts that have reached the end of their service life." It needs a basic tuneup. Fine. $130. Fair enough. We get it back, all is well. Then I change an ink cartridge, which the printer doesn't recognize. I return to the repair place. Oh, it's probably a cable that came lose during the tuneup. Oh, nope, nope, it needs a new print head ($200) and yes, it's true that there's yet another thing that could eventually break ($300), so more or less my printer is a money pit.

Have no fear! New printers are $100 off with a rebate and instant savings! But only at CompUSA in Manhattan! And the website says there's only one left! Joel, best guy ever, is the first customer at the store. (He lets me sleep late because today was my one day off. If I work tomorrow, it gives me more clout to ask for both Thanksgiving and Christmas off.) He returns home with a brand new printer, groceries and a small plastic camera thingy that you have to buy in the city. We set it up, and it won't print. We did everything right. It's plugged in and everything.

I call Luke and magically the printer works. It works for twelve glorious hours, during which I catch up on reprint orders and things I've been meaning to print for the last week. Then, inexplicably, it stops working again. I restart the computer. I restart the printer. I turn the printer off and unplug it. I delete the printer and add it again. Joel reinstalls the software. We call Luke again, and even his miraculous skillz fail to make this $600 miracle of modern convenience our bitch.

I decide I've just had it for now, even though Joel is still in there, trying to download updated software, so I decided to head to bed and flop in front of the fan.... Wait for it, wait for it... The fucking fan is fucking broken. It worked three hours ago when I took a nap. The fan is plugged in. It's turned on. There are no light switches that control that outlet. The air purifier works in both openings in the outlet. It's just dead. Why does everything I touch turn to shit?

Also? At this rate, we are never going to be able to afford a house. Oh, and the landlady just raised the rent.

EDITED TO ADD: You know what though? I witnessed a family having a huge group fight outside of Barnes and Noble today, complete with public crying and shouting and drama. My family, we love passionately and fight passionately. I have been there, in the midst of a horribly public family fight, but it's been YEARS since that happened. We've all grown a lot, but still... my heart went out to that family today. Compared to that, all my present complaints are pretty minor in the grand scheme of things.


shannon said...

Ooof. Hope this week goes much better for you.

Julia said...

I know "they" say don't sweat the small stuff. But I hear ya' that although I appreciate my fine family, friends, job, and apartment - when the small stuff is constant and seemlingly never-ending it sure is hard to keep your cool - both literally and figuertively. That when I switch cliches and go with "this to shall pass" to get me mentally though one patch and on to deal with the next relative "disaster" all the while counting my blessings that thus far my "disasters" have been flight delayes, someone hitting and running my car WHILE I WAS IN IT, and PMS vs. the potential disasters of illness, unemployment, and the ever possible death. Oy.

Carl said...

When life hands you lemons, squeeze them on peoples' paper cuts and ouchies. It may not make you feel better but you can bond with them in that special way that is only possible when you're screaming together in agony.