Back to Real Life

I forgot to mention that we saw Hall and Oates while we were on vacation. Mark and I drove up to Lancaster on Tuesday night to the American Music Theater (gorgeous place, by the way) to hear some tunes. It was one of the best concerts I've ever seen (and I've seen 10 now). I heard Daryl's mom and dad were in the audience - maybe that's why it was special. We drove right back to the beach that evening. H&O have a NEW boxed set coming out October 6. If you go here you can read about it and have a listen to some of the songs.

Do you remember the game Aggravation? That's what this week has been like. I've spent time at PT for my foot because my plantar fascitis is flaring up again. Cortisone shots didn't work for me so we're trying this for 3 weeks.

I've been slow on quilting these past few weeks because my time has been spent juggling workmen-- plumbers (note the plural on that) fixing a leak in the upstairs bathroom that has come thru the kitchen ceiling (I now have a hole in the kitchen ceiling, but have high hopes after two companies, four plumbers and seven visits that the problems are fixed); meeting with insurance estimators who seem to never cover anything (the drywall is covered, but fixing the pipes is not???); and carpet installers who spent the day yesterday installing two new carpets (this was the highlight of the week - at least this went smoothly).

When I was about 12, I used to write letters to comment about things all the time. I discovered that when you complained, the company actually cared enough to send you a free sample of a new product or a coupon for something at the store. I even started "Mary Jane's Complaint Service" and handed a card out to all my relatives (they must have all been very happy, as I got no takers on the service). I was the Consumer Reporter of my time. My time is wasted on the phone talking to customer service people who don't really listen to what you're saying, but keep reading their scripted lines, or dealing with people who tell me they'll call back, and leave me waiting and waiting and waiting. As I get older, I find myself being less and less patient with these people and less willing to let my life be consumed by talking to people who don't know what they're doing. As for the waste of time that is called Voicemail, if I could smash the phone and accomplish anything, I would.

Hopefully (for hope springs eternal) next week will be better.